


LOYALTY

by Daiya_Darko



Series: Cracks in Stable Foundations [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Daiya_Darko
Summary: "You cannot heal in the same environment you got sick in" Erik knows this, so after the events of Rebuild, he takes the initiative to find a new direction with his life and winds up in Jabari Land.Nakia and T'Challa's relationship is stronger after the turmoil Erik subjected them to, but new challenges still await them.And Shuri just wishes everyone would get along.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read Rebuild to understand what's going on here, but I'd suggest it for understanding about Erik's personality changes

The morning sun rolled over the craggy mountains of Jabari Land, setting a mist upon the earth that swirled between rocks and trees. It rolled and whispered through the village, greeting the early risers whose work lay in wait before them. Men and women exited their homes, praising Hanuman and greeting each other in camaraderie before going about their separate ways.

The mist met M’Baku at his feet as he stood before his private garden taking in all that he had to be thankful for.

When the winter snow melted and filled the roaring streams back to life once more, when the moss beget the bugs who beget the birds and fish, when the berries were ready to be plucked and plopped into the mouths of hungry children, that was M'Baku's favorite time of year. It was an unbecoming softness, like the fur on his armor or the skin on the inside of his thighs and arms, that made M'Baku retreat from others and revel in spring's splendor. He valued the rebirth of the earth and all the treasures she had to offer. M'Baku dug his fingers into the soil and closed his eyes when he felt the roots from a nearby tree, still relatively young with much more to grow. He felt the strength coursing through it - the same life that coursed through all Jabari wood and his people - and chanted to Hanuman.

His morning meditation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stone walkway that led to his garden. Disgruntled, M’Baku stood and dusted his hands off on his legs.

“I hope this is worth disrupting my morning prayers,” he grumbled as he took in the site of his head guard, Usochi.

“I would not bother you myself if it were not of the utmost importance, sa,” he dipped his head in an informal bow, and M’Baku walked past the large man back inside.

Work never waited for a lazy man to be ready.

M’Baku proceeded through the stone corridors, a labyrinth carved into the very side of the mountain until he arrived at his throne room that sat perched on the cliff overlooking all of Jabari Land. As he entered, he took note of the unfamiliar body standing at attention while surrounded cautiously by six of his men. M’Baku dismissed his guards and narrowed his eyes at the man, now revealed to him. His hair looked as if he had changed his mind in the middle of cutting his hair, and his cheeks sat on his jawline in such a way that he would have looked boyish if not for the scar that fell across his face. His stare was analytical and intense, as if sizing up M’Baku, and he immediately felt threatened.

“What are you doing here? And where did you come from?”

The man folded his hands before him and cracked his neck. “I’m from the city. I got lost taking a hike.”

M’Baku exchanged glances with Usochi, who nodded to corroborate his story. He snorted and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re a long way from the heart of Wakanda for someone who got lost.”

The man smiled. “I love nature, what can I say?”

M’Baku’s patience was waning quickly. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I am Prince N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu who was murdered by King T’Chaka,” he answered in Xhosa. The guards stirred, suddenly on alert as everyone realized who stood before them.

M’Baku steeled himself. He couldn’t show any sign of fear, concern, or shock before his men. He was expected to be courageous, and he sent a silent prayer up to Hanuman to strengthen his constitution. This was a delicate situation; had T’Challa failed to rid them of _this_ as well?

“So _you_ are Erik, oh? I’ve heard a lot about you,” M’Baku played. He sat back in his throne and rested his hands on his lap.

“All good things I hope,” Erik joked.

M’Baku gave him a chuckle. “Unfortunately, no. You are a criminal, and you should be dead, or is the king allergic to removing undesirables?”

Erik feigned offense and covered his chest. “I’m undesirable? You wound me, Great Gorilla. I’m only here to seek a modest life of solitude away from the rest of Wakanda, and my cousin.”

“I cannot allow someone like you to put my people at risk with your past.”

“I understand, but if you just give me a month to prove myself -”

“I’ve given you more time than most already, don’t push it.”

Erik held up his hands. “Alright, fair. How does a week sound?”

M’Baku rubbed his beard and considered it. He could use Erik for information and then dispose of him at the end of the week. He’d be doing T’Challa yet _another_ favor, however, and the council wouldn’t be thrilled about the debt the handsome king was accruing on the Jabari dime.

But it wasn’t often that the enemy of your enemy turned up seeking refuge. It wasn’t often that _anyone_ visited the Jabari, so M’Baku had no real precedence for his interaction. He tried to trust in himself that he was doing the right thing when he gave a short nod.

“So be it. You have a week to prove that you are not a threat. At the end of a week, you will be on probation for a month, and in that time you must commit yourself to hard labor with the loggers. If after that, you still wish to stay and there have been no issues, you can call Jabari home.” M’Baku ignored the piercing glares he was receiving from his guards; Erik wouldn’t make it a day if his instincts were correct. They needed to trust in him, as he trusted in Hanuman.

Erik bowed deeply, a move that caught M’Baku off guard, and said, “Thank you so much for your generosity, Great Gorilla M’Baku! I promise, you won’t regret it!”

M’Baku ignored the gratuity. “If T’Challa spared your life, why are you running from him?”

The formal pretense cracked, M’Baku noticed, as the fake smile dropped. “Oh I ain’t running from him, I just hate everyone back there.”

“Then we have something in common,” M’Baku stood and walked over to Erik, giving him a once over before nodding to his guards. As they approached, he looked down at Erik who seemed unmoved by his stature. “They will take you in private and make sure you aren’t hiding anything to spy on us, give you appropriate clothing, and temporary housing in my palace where I can keep an eye on you myself personally.”

“I look forward to it,” Erik grinned, flashing his gold teeth. _Gaudy_ , M’Baku thought to himself. He left his guards to their duties and returned to his garden Usochi quick on heels.

“Sa, are you _mad?”_ Usochi hissed. “He’s not just a traitor, but a murderer! We should have killed him where he stood!”

M’Baku slipped his boots off and stepped his feet onto the earth, wiggling his toes among the grasses and moss. “If we killed everyone without giving them a chance to speak, we would be savages, Usochukwu.” M’Baku lowered himself to the ground and folded his large legs into a folded position and closed his eyes. “His actions will speak for him. Have a little more faith, my friend.”

  


It had been a long time since Erik was subjected to a cavity search, and unlike the clinical CIA agents he was familiar with, the Jabari were rough and had plenty of comments to share as he stripped off his clothes.

“Look at those scars! Did he fall down the mountain already?”

“It’s like he’s built of pebbles.”

“Well, not _everything_ is pebbles.”

"Don't you know? He's ribbed for her pleasure!"

They laughed, and Erik gritted his teeth as he went along with their orders. He opened his mouth and lifted his tongue, squatted and coughed, and when they were finally satisfied, they shoved a canvas bag of clothes in his arms.

“Get dressed,” the one of them ordered. Erik pulled out heavy fur and leather arrangements, and a second guard handed him a pair of boots and thick, wool socks. Erik pulled on the undershorts and the tunic easily, then cinched the belt around his waist. He opted not to wear the armored fur the others wore, choosing to distinguish himself from the rest, then pulled on his knee high fur boots. He had to stop himself from making a Flo Rida joke, knowing it would be wasted on them.

Well, that’s what he had Shuri for.

Once he indicated that he was ready, they led Erik down a maze of hallways lit by torches with light glowing from the ends. They reminded him of fiber optic cables, pinpricks of light flickering and glowing a golden hue that cast ominous shadows against the opposite wall as they walked by. The guards came to a stop in front of heavy, wooden doors and with the knob of a stick, opened it by tapping three times. The door pushed open, and someone shoved Erik in. Before he could turn around to voice his complaint, the door slammed shut in his face with an echoing thud that reverberated in his chest.

Erik swore and took in his surroundings. It wasn’t dark, lit by strips of wood in the ceiling, but there were no windows. A single fireplace sat in the center of the circular room lit by some unknown force, and Erik went to sit on the fur rug in front of it for warmth. The heat licked at his back, while Erik noted his accommodations: a bed, a work desk and chair, and a lounge sofa. No bathroom in sight, or it was hidden somehow.

He was beginning to regret his decision to come up here; maybe he should have done some more research first, but he was just in a rush to remove himself from Nakia as quickly as possible. He had taken a low road in their breakup, which he found himself regretting. Erik was never one to hide his true feelings, and yet he started a fight for no reason, just to approach the topic rather than calling her out directly. It bothered him that he worried about her feelings still, but he figured that was normal. It would take more than four days to rid his system of her poison, and at least in the mountains he was completely isolated from anyone who would have anything nice to say about her.

Erik couldn’t stand to think of her nicely; it just made his heart long for her. She had wormed her way into his heart and mind, and all he had to show for it were a few bruises from T’Challa’s revenge.

That had been nice. _That_ almost made it worthwhile. The pain of being punished and the freeing feeling of finally, _finally_ atoning for _something_ he’d done was a step in the right direction. The solitary confinement wasn’t the kind of punishment he needed in order to feel change, but pain. He needed pain. If Nakia had simply beaten him bloody he could have pushed past this a lot faster, but she chose the convoluted way.

 _She’s too nice to do something like that,_ Erik thought. _She wouldn’t even torture me._

But she had. She did. She would have done it again. Erik reminded himself of these truths, and rubbed his face.

Alone again, in an unfamiliar country with enemies of his family. Or were they allies? They were all Wakandan, were they not? Shuri had said they’d joined forces to defeat the Border tribe, but M’Baku and the Jabari were still not very friendly towards the panther tribe.

Either way, Erik was going to play them for what they were worth.

When the thud of the door opening filled the chamber, Erik nearly jumped out of his skin on the floor. M’Baku entered, swaggering in and filling the large space effortlessly. Erik was used to being big, bigger than most, but the way M’Baku commanded himself merely by _existing_ -

“I trust you find your new accomodations satisfactory?” M’Baku made himself comfortable on the couch in front of Erik, and from his position on the floor, M’Baku’s spread legs almost sent Erik into a panic until he remembered he was wearing the same under pants as well. Still, he wasn’t going to have a conversation with this man in a position of subservience. He stood and looked around for another seat before realizing he would have to just settle for sitting next to M’Baku on the couch.

M’Baku watched him, his eyes never betraying his calculated and calm demeanor. It was like playing chess.

Erik angled his body towards M’Baku, tucking one leg under himself and leaning against the arm of the couch. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’ll do.”

M’Baku sniffed. “Well you’re free to leave if you find things to challenging here for you.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Erik replied.

The leader smiled. “Then you might fit in after all. We are still very much labor intensive here -”

“Is that why y’all are so big? Because it can’t be from eating a plant based diet,” Erik cut off.

M’Baku’s brow furrowed. “Interrupt me again and you’ll be meeting the less hospitable side of me.”

“There was nothing hospitable about the cavity search your men subjected me to,” Erik grumbled. “But at least they admitted my dick is big.”

M’Baku didn’t react for a moment, and then he burst out in giggles, his massive shoulders shaking under the heavy armor. “We like to have fun here, and I hope you do too.”

“Fun?” Erik exclaimed. “Rolling boulders up a mountain is fun to y’all?”

“Of course not,” M’Baku rolled his eyes. “Why would you roll them _up_ the mountain when it’s so much easier to roll them down?”

When he began laughing at his own joke, it took Erik all his strength not to stand up and walk out. He should have asked Shuri for more information. These people were already getting on his last nerves; he just wanted somewhere to lie low, not be forced into work camps and subjected to infantile jokes.

“Tomorrow you begin working with the loggers,” M’Baku said, suddenly serious. “They will report to me your behavior, your work ethic, and if it doesn’t work out you will be asked to leave.”

“I seriously feel like I’m on parole,” Erik crossed his arms. He should have stayed in the city. He was already plotting how to get back down the mountain unnoticed.

“Again, you can leave, but what will T’Challa say when he finds out such a strong and powerful force such as yourself could not withstand one day as a Jabari warrior?”

That was a good point. Nothing Erik did or said would hold any weight if he returned so quickly, and he was _not_ about to hear endless jokes from Shuri about this. He’d level the entire city before that happened.

“Then I guess I better get an early rest in, huh?” Erik tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. M’Baku snorted, and banged his staff on the floor once. The door swung open, and two guards walked in pushing a cart with food on it. Erik’s stomach turned; he’d forgotten how hungry he was, finding very little game in the woods on his way up.

“Eating is just as important as exercise. It’s all a part of caring for your body, and a warrior with an empty belly is as good as dead,” M’Baku explained. He lifted a soft, steaming sweet potato from its tray and split it open with his hands. When Erik tried to do the same thing, he burned his finger tips, but powered through for the sake of appearances. In the back of his head, he could hear Nakia telling him to relax, that he didn’t have to compete to keep up, that this wasn’t a challenge, but what did she know?

She wasn’t here right now, she wasn’t the one who suggested he go live on his own. She probably would have stopped him if he’d told her, or if she had any clue that he was thinking about leaving. Would he have stopped? That was what Erik needed to know, but he would never find out now.

“I can hear you thinking,” M’Baku said through a mouthful of rice. “Do you want to share?”

Erik shook his head. “I needed to clear my head, and that’s why I’m here,” he said quietly. “But there’s someone who I can’t get out my mind, like a leech.”

“A woman?”

Erik paused in between bites of his potato and licked his lips. “Something like that.”

“Ah,” M’Baku nodded in understanding. “Do you miss her?”

“Okay, I just need to understand one thing: why are you even talking to me about this shit?” Erik snapped. He couldn’t control himself; this was how Nakia had worked him into a false sense of security: lock him away, talk to him about his feelings, and then redirect his anger and energy. He left the city to _escape_ being manipulated any further, and now he was in the mountains with _no_ allies and a giant monkey man.

M’Baku gives him a surprised and mildly offended look, and sets down the bread roll in his hand. He wipes crumbs from his mouth and turns to better face Erik.

“You walk around with a boulder on your shoulder, and I’m not sure who put it there, but it’s hard to get any work done when you’re weighed down by rocks rumbling around in your mind. I’m offering you a chance to unload your burden - nothing more, nothing less.”

“I have a hard time trusting people,” Erik explained. “I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Yes, but _you_ must understand something about things in the Jabari tribe,” M’Baku said. “My people are fiercely loyal to me and would do anything I asked of them. In that same way, I too would do whatever it is they needed. A single mother needing someone to watch her child while she works or a sick elder needing help with laundry. We ask for help, and we give it to the best of our abilities. This extends to me as well, and if you are to fit in here, you must not only be selfless, but allow others to help you.”

“So y’all are like communists or something? Everyone shares things equally?”

“You can think of it that way, if that’s all you can conceive in your narrow mind,” M’Baku scoffed. “My point is, you _need_ to talk about your feelings, and I will hear them.”

Erik gave him a suspicious side glance, then raised his bowl of soup back to his mouth. “Alright, I’ll bite. But if I don’t want to talk about anything in detail, you can’t make me, deal?” When M’Baku agreed, Erik continued, “My punishment in Wakanda was six months of complete isolation. I had nothing, no books, no music, nothing but a meal shoved through a slot. I started losing my mind, and when it was getting really bad, Nakia -”

“That’s the one who T’Challa loves, right?”

“Who’s interrupting who now?” Erik smirked. “Yeah, that’s his woman or whatever. She thought of the idea, thought she could program me into forming an attachment to her so I’d do her bidding. It worked, but not well enough, because I knew what she was doing. Doesn’t change -” Erik choked on his food and began coughing, setting the bowl back down. When he could continue, he said, “Doesn’t change that she _did_ get in my head. I don’t know if I can say I love her, but...I broke things off.”

M’Baku didn’t try to hide the shock on his face. “So you took the throne _and_ his woman? T’Challa still let you live?”

“I know right?” Erik laughed. “He was really cool about the whole thing, merciful king and all that shit. Anyways, she had her own issues and I didn’t need to deal with that. I’m not about to be a pawn for a cute smile.”

“And what worries you now?”

“This gonna sound really stupid but…” Erik dragged his hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck. “I wonder if she actually cared about me. That was the closest thing I ever felt to being loved, and it was all a game to her. I was just a weapon she tried to use for herself. I’m sick of being used. First the military, then the government, and then her.” Erik’s eyes glinted in the fire light, bright and wet, and M’Baku averted his gaze to give him a moment to collect himself.

“Back home, the gangs wanted me to join them. They saw how I fought, they knew my father and his presence in the streets. They expected me to stick around and be their tool too, but I’m tired of living for someone else. Who the fuck am I?”

Erik bent over and hid his head in his hands, mentally berating himself for even spilling any of this just for a hot meal and someone who’d listen. This wasn’t like him, this wasn’t who he was.

And then a heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and Erik looked up from tear stained hands and sniffed. M’Baku was rubbing his back in small circles, his eyes soft for the first time all day. “You are a soldier, but you are also royalty. The Jabari never abandon their own; we don’t ascribe to the same ideals as the rest of Wakanda for a reason, because what happened to you would never have happened under our rule.”

“That’s all good to hear now, but it doesn’t mean shit to that little boy crying in that apartment with his dead father’s head in his lap,” Erik muttered bitterly. “I’m never gonna stop being angry, I’m just gonna keep redirecting it until I die.”

“Stop talking about yourself as if you have a death sentence,” M’Baku’s hand stopped on the back of Erik’s neck, squeezing just tight enough to get his attention. “You aren’t that little boy anymore, and it’s time to leave your anger behind in that same room.”

“Easy for you to say -”

“My father died when I was young; I was forced to become the leader of the Jabari before I was ready, and no black panther ever visited to give his condolences, although we were countrymen. We experienced years of infected crops when I was young, and no panthers offered to help us. We swallowed our pride and asked for their help, and they met us with spears, telling us to turn back.” M’Baku’s eyes were dark as they met Erik’s. “I understand wanting to kill T’Challa and take everything from him. But that anger almost got me killed, and he made me realize that.”

Erik’s throat closed up and he gritted his teeth as the hot, angry tears rolled down his cheeks. “I can’t - I can’t let it go. It’s all I have -”

“Yes, it’s the only thing you have connected to your father left, but this would not be the life he wanted for you,” M’Baku said quietly. “Just as my father would not have wanted me to die on challenge day in his honor, yours certainly would not want your future established by the past.”

“Fuck you,” Erik cried, openly sobbing now. M’Baku sat next to him silently, hand never leaving Erik’s back as he worked through the emotions he so clearly was still dealing with. This was what the panthers did, their sneaky and understated attacks just as malicious as their underhanded actions and words. M’Baku sympathized with Erik, realizing he was probably the first to do so or even understand where he was coming from. At the very least, he had listened, and as he listened to Erik’s painful sobs, he knew Hanuman sent him for a reason.


	2. II

After their talk, Erik allowed M’Baku to show him around Jabari Land to familiarize him with the area before he was thrust out on his own. He showed him the way they scaled steep, icy inclines and used guide ropes at times to steady themselves. “It is also helpful for those who need assistance with balance,” M’Baku explained. “Everything should be accessible for everyone so that no one is above the other.”

Erik listened and hardly spoke as he accepted the information. The spring sun had begun melting the ice into muddy banks, making everything messy and slippery as they approached the area where the trees meant to be harvested began. Erik noted the difference in these trees from the many he’d passed on his hike up the mountain: they were darker, denser, yet seemed to hum with an internal power as if powered by some battery. He thought about the strips of light in his room and the torches that burned without fire.

“So is there like, electricity in the wood?” Erik asked.

M’Baku made an impressed noise and nodded, guiding Erik around a hole in the ground with a hand on his lower back. “You noticed. Yes, Jabari wood is truly a sight to behold and quite versatile as well. We use it for our weapons, armor, and to power our technology. Life flows through all things here, from the tiniest sprout to the greatest tree.” M’Baku smiled proudly at the forest before them and huffed. “We need not use vibranium here.”

Erik wanted to point out that it was probably just vibranium that had seeped into the earth and thus the wood (he speculated this was how an all vegetarian diet could produce such hearty people in the mountains) but didn’t want to push his luck. M’Baku seemed very spiritual, almost zealous, and he knew better than to offend anyone’s gods.

“You will report here to receive your work tomorrow, are we clear?”

Erik confirmed he understood and looked around at the clearing they stood in before the forest. He’d be chopping down trees and hauling them manually, no power tools? That wasn’t a problem; that was a free exercise plan. He really was about to earn his way into society just for doing something he would have done anyways.

Or so he thought.

The next morning, Erik rose for breakfast with M’Baku and his guards, then led himself down the path to the harvesting fields. There, a foreman awaited him with a sack in his hand. He was slimmer than most of the Jabari Erik had seen, high cheekbones protruding from dark, clear skin, and a shaved head. His clothes were similar to the guards, fur and tunics, but without the armor.

“You must be N’Jadaka,” he greeted. “You can call me Chineze, I’m the guardian of the forest.”

“You cut down what you guard?”

Chineze smiled; he was used to being asked that. “I ensure that the forest is taken care of, even as we take from it. You see, for every tree we harvest, we begin planting fifty more. We enrich the soil with mulch from food scraps and ashes from fires, turn the soil, water it regularly, and pray.”

The last bit caught Erik off guard. “Pray?”

“Part of your job is to pray,” Chineze handed the bag to Erik, and when he opened it he found a trowel, watering gourd, and a smaller sack of what he presumed was fertilizer. “And the other part is to begin planting the next saplings.” He pointed to the large greenhouse that sat at the back of the field where the sunlight seemed to hit the ground almost continuously.

The way Chineze tacked on the last addition to his instructions made it seem like he was joking, and Erik kept waiting for him to laugh at his joke the way M’Baku did, but the man was serious.

Erik looked around at the wide expanse of land incredulously. “You want me to plant, what, two acres on my own?”

“You are not expected to finish it all in one day. It is quiet, meditative work. Many would be pleased to get off so lightly,” Chineze smirked.

It wasn’t a hard task, and he had a week to do what many probably did in a day or two. Although it would be hell on Erik’s back and knees, he was more so concerned with the fact that he’d be alone in the fields, essentially doing this task on his own. “So I have to plant how many trees?”

“Until there are no more saplings left,” Chineze said.

“I need a number, boss.”

“You can’t ask the universe for definites when nothing is certain,” Chineze replied. He started to walk back towards the trees, leaving Erik with a bag in his hand and nothing but his own thoughts.

“I don’t even know how to plant trees!” Erik called after him. “You not gonna show me how?”

Chineze called back over his shoulder, “Pray for guidance!”

“Fuck you too then,” Erik mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t stand this religious hippie stuff; he’d never been religious, not even remotely spiritual, and that probably wasn’t going to change anytime soon. He walked to the northwestern corner of the large plot of land and sighed as he inspected the field before him. He had a lot to get through, and even more to prove to these people.

Erik dropped to his knees and with determination, broke fresh ground.

 

“Would you like an update, sa?”

“Speak, Chineze.”

“He is sulking and growling at the ground so much that I fear the worms will be too afraid to aerate the soil,” Chineze laughed. “But he is cooperative. He hasn’t complained once, and he hasn’t slacked off.”

M’Baku scratched his chin in amusement. The murderer was either deep undercover for the panthers or he sincerely meant to make a life here.

“Let him continue. How long do you think it will take to plant all the land?”

“At his speed, with breaks? A week would be excessive. He moves swiftly. I told him he needed to be praying as he worked, but I do not think that is what’s happening.”

“Thank you, Chineze, that will be all.” M’Baku pressed the frame of the mirror and Chineze’s face disappeared, leaving his own staring back at him. He inspected himself, not out of vanity (although he knew he was handsome) but to see just how much the stress of leading an almost sovereign nation had taken its toll on him. Listening to grievances, seeking solutions, avoiding his own personal feelings…

M’Baku needed a vacation. Urgently. He was exhausted, and T’Challa’s frequent badgering to join the Wakandan council wasn’t doing him any favors. If he _did_ decide to make an appearance, he certainly would bring up Erik’s presence in Jabari Land. It wouldn’t look good for him to send in a criminal while trying to foster good relations, so the likelihood of Erik being a mole was low - T’Challa was naive, but not _stupid_. If he wanted to spy, he could have chosen less obvious methods.

The talk he and Erik had shared the day before had felt genuine, those tears not produced on the spot through acting. Erik had been hurting, for how long M’Baku could only imagine. It was growing harder to envision this man with scars littering his body in symbolic badges of blood as being anything other than monstrous. A killer with no conscience. The Frankenstein’s Monster of America.

 _A victim of his own anger_ , M’Baku reflected. He recalled how defensive Erik had been to open up to him, even though he clearly wanted so badly to vent somewhere, and even after it had all been said and done, Erik shut himself away behind smug smiles and vulgar language. M’Baku could deal with whatever problems Erik was dealing with (he sensed that he hadn’t been fully honest), but as long as he hid himself from the rest of the world, he would still be a threat.

Not only to others, but himself. M’Baku couldn’t stand to watch him self-destruct under his care, and M’Baku _did_ care. He sympathized with the man, abandoned by his own family and left to the care of white men. That Erik even remembered the language was a feat in itself, as M’Baku knew well how the whites had erased and assimilated others into their own culture while exterminating all traces of other cultures. M’Baku didn’t want to do that with Erik, but his trauma was unhealthy; if he didn’t want to adapt to Wakandan life, then at least Jabari would have to do. He would have the freedom to express himself within reason and seek solace and comfort in others, something he desperately needed.

What kind of person has been hurt so many times they fear anyone trying to help them?

Yet with all that Erik had done, driving the queen mother even to her knees before M’Baku to plead for his help, he couldn’t find it in his heart to really hold his past over his head. What Erik did outside of Jabari Land did not affect him; the panther tribe had created that problem, and of course their curse came home to roost. That meant nothing to him. The rest of the world was a putrid mess M’Baku had little interest in; Erik could earn his clean slate here if he had to.

Instead of a dibble, he had been given a simple hand trowel to make him take his time to really think. His job after this week would be to maintain the plants he’d help grow, a task he could not simply walk away from. He would have to see this project through, however long it took. Weeding, watering, providing nutrients, and generally fostering a good environment for growth.

His men had counted one thousand and six hundred scars on his body, and M’Baku had ordered Chineze to give him one thousand and six hundred saplings to plant.

 _A life for a life_ , M’Baku thought. _May this give you the solace you seek for the guilt you carry._

 

Erik dug, and Erik planted. He watered, and he tried to avoid thinking.

It was quiet, save for the sounds of the birds and the wind.

Erik didn’t want to talk to himself, but by the fiftieth sapling, he needed to talk to _someone_ , and he felt silly talking a plant. Chineze had told him to pray while he planted, but how was that supposed to make a difference? There was science behind talking to plants; Erik tried to reason that maybe _that_ was what he’d meant.

“I feel like I’m earning my Eagle Scout badge,” Erik joked to himself. The sapling wavered in the breeze, and Erik took it as a sign.

“You know, I spend a lot of time outdoors, but I don’t really appreciate nature,” he continued as he began digging another hole. “I’ve seen hundreds of sunrises and sunsets all over the world, but it was the one I saw while I bled out that meant the most.”

The wind whispered through the thin branches, and Erik sighed.

“You know, I’m pretty fucking heated that I have to plant y’all dumbass trees. Is this a punishment? I’d almost prefer the solitary room again.” His hands moved automatically, body operating on autopilot now.

“I don’t even know when lunch is, but I feel like I’ve been here for hours. How long is my work day? Nobody told me shit, and my bathroom was hidden behind a wall I had to find the right stone to open. The bathtub was nice though, I’ll give them that. That natural hot spring shit is kind of lit.”

The soil gave way much easier when he dug, encountering less rocks.

“I just wonder what I’m supposed to be doing here, still alive, you know? I shouldn’t be alive. Everyone keeps telling me I’m worth saving, but they’ve killed people for less than what I’ve done. What’s the point of forgiveness?”

The roots tangled with his fingers, and Erik struggled to pull himself free before throwing some mulch in the hole and plopping the sapling down tiredly. He wiped sweat from his forehead and sat on his haunches.

“I don’t think I’m worthy of forgiveness. In order to be forgiven, you have to do something to earn it. That’s why I can’t forgive Nakia for what she did to me, even though I’m not even mad. I mean, I’m mad, but what can I do about it?”

The breeze was refreshing against his hot, sticky skin, and Erik had the mind to remove the leather tunic if only for a moment before the chill of the early spring air set in. He shed his coverings by the saplings when he went back for another, walking at a leisurely pace now with the tiny tree cradled safely in his arms.

“I think everyone sees me as weak now,” he spoke to the plant. “I think they think that because I just bent over and did whatever Nakia wanted, I’m a pushover. I haven’t really given them a reason to think different.” He pushed away the soil with his hands and set the sapling inside, carefully patting the soil over it.

“They don’t want me to kill anymore or hurt people, but how else am I supposed to get some respect around here? Everyone’s so _nice_.”

He picked up the trowel again and stabbed it into the dirt, then quickly dug his hole. He hauled the sapling over and threw it in, kicking dirt over the roots.

“That’s why no one respected T’Challa, he was too nice,” Erik grumbled. “It’s better to be feared than loved. I don’t need love, I need respect. No one respected me enough to consider _not_ killing my father and leaving me in the foster system, and now every time I turn around, someone’s demanding respect from me. Do I have ‘bitch’ written on my forehead or somethin’?”

Erik stood to stretch and the sun bore down on him over the mountain peak. The breeze pushed his hair around his head, and he belatedly realized he should have gotten something to tie his hair back with. He looked around on the ground for one of the twine strings used to hold the burlap shut, and upon finding one made quick work of tying his locs into a ponytail on top of his head. He needed a shave, but it felt good to let his hair grow out. Maybe he’d even grow the rest into locs.

“I’m gonna go see if I can get a break,” Erik said, staring up into the sky with a hand over his eyes. “It looks like it’s about noon, and I’ve been working all morning. I’ll see y’all later,” Erik said to his saplings.

A hundred saplings in a few hours, work done entirely by hand. He felt proud of himself, and told himself he’d work faster now that he had a good system in hand. Talking to the trees had also helped, even if it was a placebo - time moved by faster talking to the tiny trees.

Erik marched through the forest, unsure of where he was going except that he knew Chineze had left him in this direction. Sure enough, he heard the distant sound of call and response from the logging team and walked in that direction. The woods began clearing out as he got closer, stumps littering the earth  with holes drilled into them. Some looked as if they were spongy and rotting, and Erik made sure to steer clear of bumping into or touching them. Finally, he found the work crew and located Chineze, who stood on a platform and observed everyone from below. Upon seeing Erik, however, Chineze descended the stairs and walked over to where Erik waited for him. There were murmurs from the men who were working, but they never stopped working, even as they stole glances at Erik’s scarred body. He was becoming increasingly insecure and hyper aware of himself and felt the need to hide, but had left his tunic at the field. He crossed his arms and hunched forward, just as Chineze approached.

“Are you alright? Do you need something?”

Erik dug his nails into his biceps. “I was just wondering when lunch is. I planted a hundred saplings, and I don’t know how long my work day is.”

“Oh!” Chineze smacked his forehead and laughed at himself. “I forgot to tell you about that. Go home and eat whenever you feel like you need a break. Your work finishes when you want to.”

Erik’s mouth hung open. “What?”

Chineze’s smile was bright, but genuine. He wasn’t playing with Erik. “We all work, but the secret to getting everyone to work is to only work as much as needed or desired, and only to the best of your ability.”

“But,” Erik looked around at the trees already chopped down, some even broken up into smaller pieces already. “You get so much done so quickly!”

“When everyone works together towards a common goal, you can achieve a lot,” Chineze agreed. “Go on, no one is stopping you. The Jabari pride ourselves in self discipline.”

Erik stumbled into the field once more, slightly dazed by his conversation with Chineze. It felt like a fever dream - this kind of thing didn’t happen anywhere else Erik had ever visited. It was strange being left on such a long leash, and yet he was quick to act, jogging over to retrieve his tunic and belt. He bid farewell to his trees, waving at them as they waved back in the breeze.

 

A guard announced the presence of a visitor during M’Baku’s lunch, and without asking he already knew who it was. Those braids and sharp teeth appeared before him before he could even authorize the intrusion, already plenty comfortable with his place in Jabari Land.

M’Baku chewed his rice and stared at Erik, who simply smiled back.

“What do you want?” M’Baku barked through a mouthful of food.

“I’m hungry,” Erik said. “I been workin’ my ass off all morning.”

“You panthers are like stray cats, really. Feed you once, and you keep returning,” M’Baku shook his head, but he motioned to the guard to bring another bowl for Erik as well. He reappeared after a few minutes of silence, both men just watching each other and calculating in their heads.

M’Baku pushed the bowl towards Erik, who accepted it graciously and began shoving the saffron rice and vegetable mixture into his mouth.

“You were so polite when you first came here, and now…” M’Baku trailed off, watching in mild disgust how Erik swallowed whole bites of food.

“Yeah, looks can be deceiving,” Erik shrugged. He licked his lips and made eye contact with M’Baku from over his bowl. “You don’t look like the type to just let people in your country that want to stay.”

“And you don’t look like a killer,” M’Baku replied. Erik’s hands stopped moving, the last bite of his rice stuck between his mouth and the bowl.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

M’Baku took a sip of his tea. “You look like you’re lost.”

Erik set his food down and straightened up. “I hate when y’all talk in riddles and shit. Just say what you mean, I don’t got time for decoding shit, man.”

M’Baku’s lips twitched into a smile. “But weren’t you the one who declared he was lost when you appeared in my throne room? Most humbly, I might add.”

Erik rolled his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. There was that humor again. Shuri would love it here. At the thought of her, he wanted to give her a call and check up on whatever memes she had sent him, but it would have to wait until he was certain he’d be alone.

“I can get used to everything except y’all’s humor,” Erik said, finally taking the last bite of his food. He always ate fast; that was military school training, something he’d probably never unlearn, like how many ways he could kill a man with his bare hands.

The Jabari leader finished his cup of tea and poured another, this time scooting it across the table to Erik, who accepted it without question. “Chineze told me you were working hard.”

Erik nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But don’t forget that you should be praying.”

“I’ve been talking to the damn trees, I don’t know what more you want from me,” Erik kissed his teeth. “It’s not like they talk back.”

“But they do, oh!” M’Baku exclaimed, sitting forward to rest his large arms on the table. “Everything is alive and worth speaking to. You just don’t know the language of the trees, but you will learn it soon. They tell me already that you swore at them, were rough with them, but at times you were kind.”

Erik frowned. “Chineze was watching me and told you that.”

M’Baku shook his head. “I told you, everything lives. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

It was a small, innocuous lie, the kind that you’d tell children to get them to behave. Maybe the trees didn’t speak, but the wind certainly did, and Erik’s loud swearing carried over the trees. When M’Baku had received his update from Chineze, Chineze had deduced that despite working hard, Erik was not putting his all into the task. He was still guarded, even when surrounded by nothing but trees. If he couldn’t be vulnerable enough to have the answers he sought come to him by his own accord, recovery would be near impossible.

“Talk nicer to the trees, N’Jadaka. They’re still young, and they remember everything,” M’Baku warned.

Erik chewed the inside of his lip, feeling mildly scolded like a child who was caught misbehaving. “Alright, I’m going back to work.”

“Before you go,” M’Baku grabbed his hand when Erik stood to leave. Erik looked down at where they touched, his fist flexing reflexively at being restrained. M’Baku ignored it and stood, using his size to his advantage to drag Erik out the room and to his own private mediation chamber. It was candlelit and smelled of heavy incense, but rugs and pillows were laid out across all the stone floor. At the center was a shrine with a statue of a large gorilla, which Erik quickly recognized.

“Sit, let me teach you something,” M’Baku pushed Erik onto a pillow and dropped with a grunt at his side.

M’Baku sat cross-legged, and Erik tried to emulate the same position. Once situated, M’Baku looked forward at the Hanuman shrine and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and Erik followed suit. They took deep breaths in sync, M’Baku hoping he could at least settle Erik’s restless spirit somewhat enough to receive what he was about to demonstrate.

“ _Om Han Hanumate Namo Namah, Shree Hanumate Namo Namah_ ,” M’Baku chanted quietly, his deep voice carrying the hint of a melody to it as he spoke. “ _Jai Jai Hanumate Namo Namah, Shree Ramdootaay Namo Namah_.”

Erik listened as M’Baku continued his mantra, still taking the deep breaths in rhythm to the flow of the words and M’Baku’s cadence. His voice rose and fell in pitch more here than when he spoke, his half-singing almost hypnotizing.

Erik stopped thinking, and started listening.

It was relaxing, to say the least, as the chants to Hanuman swirled in the flickering lights of the candles and the curls of incense smoke. This was the dreaminess he’d felt before, but amped to another level. He could feel himself becoming sleepy, and M’Baku seemed to notice, stopping his chants.

“It’s too soon for a nap,” M’Baku poked Erik in the side and he automatically bat at M’Baku’s hand, fidgeting away from his reach. M’Baku made a mental note to explore that later. “I simply wanted to guide you in mediation. Go on and finish your work for today, and if you’d like, we can meditate more later.”

Erik nodded drowsily, but struggled to stand. Sitting cross-legged had cut the circulation to his legs, and M’Baku had to stand as well to get him steady on his feet. As they walked out the meditation room, Erik slowly came back to his senses enough to ask a question.

“What were you saying?”

M’Baku chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll get to that later. For now, just carry that with you back into the fields. The saplings would appreciate it more than foul language.”

Erik grumbled, but went without fight, and M’Baku watched him go, his shoulders finally no longer practically resting his ears.

“Glory be to Hanuman,” M’Baku whispered after him.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter but I feel like a lot happens so I'm okay with it

Nakia’s nails dug into T’Challa’s shoulder blades as he thrust inside her, breath heavy against her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the way he felt inside of her, the way his chest rubbed against her nipples and how he grunted in her ear. His skin was smooth, aside from the same familiar healed scars she’d learned of intimately in the past. He filled her quietly, and Nakia hummed as he pulled himself up from her.

“You didn’t cum,” T’Challa said breathlessly, confused.

Nakia blinked, and then remembered herself. “It’s fine, really. I just wanted you to cum.”

“Nonsense,” T’Challa pulled out and spread her legs. He ran his fingers between her labia and watched as some of his semen began seeping out. Nakia wiggled a bit, egging him on, and he dipped two of his fingers inside, curling up as he fucked her. Nakia closed her eyes again and ran  a hand across her breasts, toying with her nipples.

_ “Look at you,” Erik whispered. “Fucking nasty.” _

_ Nakia rocked her hips harder against his hand, the bumps on his arms tingling along her thighs as he moved harder, finger fucking her with little form or grace.  _

_ “I can’t believe I can make you cum like this. I could do this shit and never get tired,” Erik bent his head down and licked her clit, then sucked on it as Nakia exploded against his face. _

Nakia came with a cry and twisted her hips as her legs shut around T’Challa’s hand. He watched in surprise at how hard she’d came, just from fingering alone. When she finally was able to catch her breath, after the waves of pleasure finished crashing over her, Nakia opened her eyes and smiled at T’Challa, even as the guilt began to flood her.

 

The house sat where it had always sat for the past two weeks, nondescript and hollow. Its blinds drawn and door sealed tight, it almost seemed abandoned. Nakia hadn’t been back since Erik broke things off with her, and she hadn’t heard from him - no one had. No sightings, no alerts of chaos and destruction...it had been quiet. Too quiet.

Even now, Nakia felt as though she were sneaking around when it was broad daylight and she made no efforts to hide from anyone. She had nothing to hide; if she wanted to check on her prisoner, who was going to stop her? T’Challa? Okoye? There wasn’t a person in the galaxy who could command her.

Nakia knocked on the door a few times, then waited. She was being courteous; there was no lock on the inside of the door, but only on the outside. It was a preventative measure and false sense of freedom she’d allow Erik. The bracelet, the house...he could have his freedom, to a degree. He certainly didn’t deserve to be alive, much less allowed to run around Wakanda freely, but he’d somehow wormed his way into her heart, and T’Challa  _ did _ regret how things had turned out for him.

After a couple minutes of waiting and knocking again, Nakia sighed and pressed her hand to the hidden panel on the side of the door for it to open. The door unlocked, and she pushed inside.

Everything looked exactly the way she’d left it, down to the weed on the table and the clothes on the floor. Nothing had been moved. In fact, it looked as though he hadn’t even been there for days, and judging from the overripe fruit in the bowl on the kitchen counter, he hadn’t. Nakia’s mind automatically jumped to the worst conclusion - T’Challa  _ had _ killed him after all and disposed of his body somehow without telling her. Or had moved him back to the cell. Or any number of scenarios that were  _ not _ the one she had mentally prepared for.

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure  _ why _ she came to see him after he’d made it so clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. Closure? Thinking about him during sex with T’Challa had been a low point, as she’d simply been coaching T’Challa into doing different things in bed rather than just fantasizing about Erik.

But Erik and T’Challa were so different, and the dirty words didn’t carry the same edge to them when T’Challa promised to fuck her into next week.

That familiar guilt nipped at the back of her neck, and suddenly Nakia wanted to be as far away from here as possible. She never should have come back. This was only going to raise issues with T’Challa again, and they’d been working through their issue ever since she returned to him. The makeup sex after her apology had been wonderful, magical even, but her sex drive had been a mess ever since then. She wanted it more often, and despite his best efforts, she knew what she demanded of T’Challa was  _ not _ exactly in character. He could be assertive, playful, but not domineering. Not disrespectful. He never choked her, never called her names and threw her around. It was different. Good, but different.

And as much as she tried, she missed the difference in Erik. Sex with him felt like a challenge and a high risk poker game. He could have killed her at any point, but he never did; did that mean he had loved her?

Maybe to some degree, but Nakia refused to entertain that thought. She enjoyed being with him, but she didn’t love him, or at least she couldn’t give him the kind of love he needed. 

Nakia left the house and ran back to the palace with a hundred thoughts on her mind, but at the base of them lay one common factor: T’Challa.

Like a guardian angel or a second conscience, he would always be in the back of her mind no matter what she did. It was why she came back: he was her foundation, her port in a storm. He was stable and safe, and she could give up kinky sex for what T’Challa offered.

But right now she needed answers, something T’Challa could be selective about, even with her.

Nakia waited for his meeting with the council to finish this time before she entered, walking past the council and pointedly ignoring a slick comment about learning manners from the mining tribe elder. T’Challa looked surprised when he saw her walk in, and when the doors closed, all Nakia’s practiced calm immediately evaporated.

“Where is he?” Nakia asked, her voice on edge.

T’Challa’s face dropped, whether in disappointment or regret, she wasn’t sure. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep inhale through his nose. “Why do you need to know?”

“I just went to his house and he’s  _ gone _ , T’Challa!” Nakia yelled. “What did you do with him?”

“Why do you care?” T’Challa fired back. “I don’t have time to babysit a criminal - that is  _ your  _ job!”

“Did you kill him? Did you lock him away again?”

“No, I’m not you,” T’Challa responded coldly. “And I’m not my father. I would not punish him just for sleeping with you, or else who knows how many men I’d have to kill.”

Nakia’s mouth fell open in shock by how easily he’d thrown that comment out, as if he’d been dying to say it forever. “I cannot believe you.”

“I sat down and read through your reports,” T’Challa fumed. “I know the men you slept with for information. And I know you slept with Erik in the middle of a mission!” T’Challa slammed his fist against the arm of the throne with a resounding  _ bang! _ He brought his fist up to his mouth and bit his knuckles, trying to regain some composure.

Nakia was absolutely still. T’Challa never hit things in her presence, no matter how angry he was with her. “You don’t know that.”

“Do not  _ lie _ to me, Nakia!” T’Challa screamed, his patience finally hitting its end point. The vein in his temple throbbed, and she could see the visible outline of the tendons in his throat pop as he shouted, “W’Kabi  _ saw _ you! He watched you both for months! I have his reports as well as video and audio! So don’t -” T’Challa’s voice cracked, and angry tears stung his eyes, “Don’t, for the love of Bast, if you have  _ any  _ respect for me at all, don’t lie to me.”

Watching the tears run down T’Challa’s face drove a cold, painful spike through her chest. She’d never seen him this hurt before, for her. He shook with barely contained rage, his fingers gripping tight the edges of the arm rests, and his eyes were wet with tears. It was a horrific sight to witness, T’Challa falling apart - because of her.

Nakia didn’t know what to do. They had just got engaged, they had promised complete transparency, and she’d already ruined that. She probably had ruined any chance of salvaging their relationship once she’d lied, and it was a stupid lie. Of course he knew. She was there, she heard the audio clip too when he’d presented it to her. 

But still she felt the need to defend Erik, who had run off wherever and left not as much as a note for her. He had kicked her to the curb  _ gladly _ , and what was she doing? Bothering T’Challa with questions and lies.

Nakia walked up the dais, and dropped to her hands and knees in a deep bow. “I cannot keep apologizing to you and expecting you to accept my words,” Nakia said quietly. “All I can do at this point is beg your forgiveness. You’re the only person I see a future with, and I keep taking advantage of you. I’m not worthy of your kindness, but I’ll still ask for it. I will do anything for you, if it means you’ll just take me back.”

There was a terse moment there where neither spoke, and Nakia’s tears slid down her cheeks to the cold floor her forehead was pressed against until finally T’Challa spoke up.

“I never let you go, you know,” he said shakily. Nakia’s head whipped up so fast in bewilderment in her eyes and T’Challa could barely contain a small chuckle from how silly she looked.

“Get up here,” he said quietly, and Nakia pulled herself into his lap, drawing her knees up to her chest as she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re a pain my ass, you know that?”

“I know.”

“And you constantly vex me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And everyone thinks I let you get away with too much.”

“I know.”

“But no one else knows your heart the way I do,” T’Challa kissed her cheek. “I know nothing has changed from the first day we kissed to now.  _ You _ have changed, but your heart has not. You weren’t always this wild, or as moody as you’ve been in the past few weeks, but I think we can both blame outside forces for our acting out of character, hm?”

Nakia threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder, unable to process that he was even tolerating her at this point. Maybe he was right: Erik was nothing but a disease they both suffered from, infecting people with his anger and violence until they left nothing but misery behind. They were better off without him -  _ she  _ was better off without him, wherever he was.

 

From outside the throne room, Ayo and Okoye listened as T’Challa went back and forth with Nakia. They looked at each other expectantly, thrilled by the sordid drama that played out behind closed doors. 

“He’s finally going to do it!” Ayo hissed excitedly. “He’s breaking up with her!”

“You’re buying me lunch if he takes her back, which he will,” Okoye said smugly.

They kept their ears close to listen, and when things went quiet, they both looked confused. After a few minutes, Okoye could pick up the sound of Nakia’s cries, and Ayo and Okoye both groaned and rolled their eyes. Ayo cursed under her breath, and Okoye laughed as she slapped her soldier on the shoulder. “Lunch is on you.”

“He always falls for the tears!” Ayo whined. “I pray he never has a daughter, because she will just cry for whatever she wants and get it!  _ Baba, I want a city in my name! _ ‘Okay my sweet angel who never does anything wrong, I will call all the best architects to build a sprawling palace just for you!’” Ayo mocked, and Okoye had to hold herself up with her spear to keep from falling over from laughing. 

At the sound of the doors opening, they both went stone still at attention, and said nothing as Nakia and T’Challa walked past, arm in arm. Nakia gave Okoye a look, which Okoye for all her training was too irritated not to match, but said nothing.

“Okoye, Ayo, I will be taking a long lunch in my private quarters,” T’Challa said calmly. 

Ayo made a gagging face behind the pair, and Okoye’s eyes lit with mirth. “Yes, my king. We will await you here.”

T’Challa gave them both smiles, oblivious to the tense situation he was standing between. Nakia was glaring at Okoye, and Ayo was giving Nakia an unimpressed smirk. Okoye was the one who had to pretend that everything was fine, much like T’Challa. She met his eyes and curled her lips into a smile.

“Please keep in mind the scheduled appointment you have at sixteen hundred hours today in the courtyard.”

“Appointment? I do not recall…”

“And that’s why you have me,” Okoye nodded, and tapped her spear once for Ayo’s attention. They made an about face turn and marched off in the opposite direction of the royal quarters, but once they were out of earshot, Ayo asked Okoye, “What appointment? I don’t remember one either.”

“There is no appointment. I just want to give him a piece of my mind,” Okoye grinned. Ayo laughed and bumped shoulders with Okoye as the two headed off to make good on their bet.

 

* * *

“Oh no.”

Nakia checked, refreshed, and double checked her menstruation tracking app. She had experienced some spotting, but the birth control had stopped being effective around the end of their D.C. mission. When she was on the jet, she had received a notification but swiped it away in haste.

Nakia curled in on herself and swore. “Bast help me,” she whispered.

 

* * *

In Shuri’s lab, T’Challa was picking up new items for his mission before they left. Okoye was with him as well, getting an update on her spear. 

His Kimoyo bead chimed, and T’Challa lifted his wrist to see the face of his mother looking up at him expectantly.

“Yes, mother?”

“T’Challa, I don’t think you should go,” she started. “I had a dream.”

Shuri let out a loud groan from across the lab. “Here we go!”

T’Challa just shook his head and laughed. “I’m sure whatever it was, I will be fine.”

“I dreamed that Nakia came out of the river with two fish in hand,” Ramonda insisted. “I tried to call her just now, but she’s not answering!”

Okoye rolled her eyes and examined her spear disinterestedly. T’Challa gave her a sidelong glance, but said nothing. “I don’t understand what you are implying, mother.”

“Nakia is pregnant!” 

And like that, suddenly Shuri’s smile fell. Okoye looked expectantly at Ramonda to continue from behind T’Challa, who simply stood there awestruck.

“Maybe...if that is so, I can deal with it -”

“Deal with it  _ now!”  _ She scolded him. “And Shuri, I will hang you by your ears next time I see you.”

“Sorry mommy!” She whimpered. She came to stand by T’Challa and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. “You know...this isn’t like when she didn’t want me to study abroad in Aspen because she had a dream I would get trampled by a reindeer.”

“Or the time she said I would be overrun with mice if I went to America?” T’Challed joked. “It is an old wives’ tale, nothing worth getting -”

His beads chimed again, and they all looked down to see it was Nakia. Okoye and Shuri stared at T’Challa, Shuri covering her mouth with excitement as he answered.

“Yes, Nakia?”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re busy, but it’s really important and I don’t think it can wait,” Nakia said. Her face was swollen and wet, as if she’d been crying, and all thoughts of the mission fled T’Challa’s mind.

“My love, what is the matter?”

Nakia took a shaky breath and tried to steel her nerves. “I missed my period.”

Okoye quickly walked away from the conversation, throwing her spear on the table and her hands in the air. Shuri practically vibrated at T’Challa’s side, just out of view.

“Are you certain? That can only mean -”

“I’m pregnant, T’Challa.”

Shuri let out a shriek of joy and jumped on her brother, bouncing up and down with happiness. “I’m going to be an auntie!” She cried.

T’Challa stood there, dumbstruck even as Nakia laughed at the sound and sight of Shuri bouncing in and out of sight. He was completely shocked, unprepared for this information, but Shuri was already pulling up blueprints for baby carriage designs she had drafted up and speaking a mile a minute at possible names.

“Nakia, when I get back, I promise we will talk about this,” T’Challa said quietly. There was still some uncertainty, and he didn’t want to take away from Shuri’s joy or start another fight before he left. “Just take care of yourself while I am gone, alright?”

Nakia nodded, understanding what he meant.

“And let my mother and sister do whatever they want,” he said easily, cracking a smile. “If you don’t they’ll only become more restless. Shuri is looking at the top ten Wakandan baby names lists right now.”

“Tell her I said thank you,” Nakia chuckled. “I love you, T’Challa.”

He smiled softly back at her. “Thank you.”


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: graphic descriptions of violence

Erik’s week drew to a close with his work output speaking for him: he’d planted the trees with days to spare, and Chineze allowed him to begin participating in logging with the others. He joined the twelve man crew in hauling wood to the processing center be broken down into other uses, keeping to himself and speaking to no one as he worked. The others watched him cautiously, their glances to one another speaking louder than their work chants as they pushed and pulled in unison.

He knew they were talking about him, even if they made no sound. He typically avoided going out anywhere other than to work and the palace for fear of putting himself in a situation where he’d be tried or otherwise antagonized. He needed to make it through the week uneventfully, and he needed to get through the probation with as much ease. Still, he felt their eyes on him wherever he went, their questions invasive and harsh.

_ Why had he killed so many people, and why was he here? _

It wasn’t like Erik to give much thought to how others perceived him; until recently, he was one track minded and focused entirely on completing his mission. He told himself that nothing else mattered, no allies or lovers who were fleeting and never lasted. He always covered himself, even in the summer to avoid being recognized as his scars made him stand out. 

Now he wanted to cover himself again, but it was a moot point. Where had this sensitivity come from?

Erik went home only after the others called it quits, despite how tired he was. His body was struggling to adapt to the new diet, used to deriving most of his energy from meat, but he tried to compensate with as many starchy roots and bowls of rice as possible. At the very least, the food was good, which encouraged him to eat more and which seemed to please M’Baku.

He had decided to skip seeing M’Baku on the night before his judgement, choosing instead to activate his Kimoyo beads and catch up on what he’d miss. A flurry of messages flew past his eyes from Shuri, and Erik smiled at the idea that someone maybe missed him. He scrolled through pictures and videos casually, laughing alone in the darkness of his room until he got to a recorded video message from her.

“Erik! You won’t believe what happened!” Shuri’s bright smile lit up the projection. “Nakia is pregnant and T’Challa just announced their engagement!”

The smile on Erik’s face fell as quickly as it had came. Pregnant? Already? Nakia had wasted no time moving on from, which he could hardly fault her. He’d been pretty cut and dry with his words, but it didn’t take away the sting. He had thought for a brief, foolish moment that maybe someone like Nakia - even with all her flaws, even as confused and screwed up as she was - could love him, but no. Not even her, not even a traitorous leech could love him.

Or was it that he just could not compare to T’Challa? He could beat him in hand to hand combat, he could fuck his girlfriend better, he could even win the affection and trust of his little sister, but it still would make no difference.

Erik was not T’Challa, and he was finally beginning to feel the inadequacy set in.

What did he have that Erik didn’t, if not better? Compassion? Patience? Kindness? Morals? Sure, Erik would never deny that, but Nakia had at least taught him those things, even if he had lied to her about it. He lied to her a lot, thinking back on their last argument. He was just saying things to make her mad so she would leave, and she had fallen for it. She probably would have believed him as well if he had said he never loved her, but he’d been honest about one thing: he was determined to get over her.

Erik hesitated to contact Shuri, and then chose to just send her a message instead. He didn’t feel like holding a conversation. He began to record, but was interrupted by an incoming message. He didn’t even have a chance to reject the call before Shuri appeared above his wrist.

“So he lives once again!” Shuri declared. “You know, you could have let me know sooner when you got to Jabari Land!”

Erik didn’t know how to articulate that he’d wandered through the mountains and hills camping and living off the land for four, almost five days before he’d actually made it, so he just said, “I’ve been busy. They put my ass to work as soon as I got here.”

Shuri made a concerned face and narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t like, in a labor camp are you? We can get you out if you need it.”

“Nah, I’m good, it’s part of my condition on being here,” Erik waved her away. “I just gotta prove that I can tough it out and they’ll let me stay. What’s up with you though? You been alright?”

Erik laid back on his pillow and listened to Shuri talk about what all he’d missed, catching him up on her new projects and pop culture, none of which he particularly cared about or had interest in, but it was a connection to the world he no longer was a part of. Shuri sent him a few playlists to listen to and he thanked her for the consideration, even if some of them had titles like, “On the Run Tour: Jabari Land” and “Border Gang Whole Lotta Gang Shit.”

“See, that’s how ya getcha ass beat,” Erik laughed. “Your brother would lose his mind if he saw these.”

“He’d lose his mind if he knew I was talking to you at all,” Shuri rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, about that. So we’re waiting until Nakia is further along to do a blood test for paternity,” Shuri said slowly, trying to measure Erik’s reaction.

He simply shrugged. “Okay?”

Shuri balked. “You could be the father!” She hissed.

Erik hadn’t even considered that. A child? _His?_ He was in no condition to be raising a baby, and had even less interest in doing so. “Just let them raise it. I mean, it’s not like they’d let me walk up outta there with a whole baby given my history.”

Shuri made a doubtful face. “You know...if the child is yours, you technically still have succeeded the throne.”

“Not worth it, princess. How about you hurry up and have a baby?” Erik quickly redirected from the topic of throne lineage; he needed time to process this information, and not with Shuri.

Shuri ducked her head and tried to bite back a smile. “I might one day, but I will adopt a baby instead of having one. Pregnancy is horrific. Also,” Shuri looked around and seemed to move to a different location. “I’d have to find a girlfriend who wants a baby too.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t seen that coming. “You be eatin’ the cat, Shuri? Oh snap!” Erik laughed at how flustered she became then, eyes wide and quickly hushing him in embarrassment.

“Stop teasing me! I told you that in confidence, so don’t tell anyone else!”

“What if I find a cute girl for you here in Jabari Land, huh? What kind of girls you like?”

“Well,” Shuri tried to fight down a smile, but it was painfully clear that she was harboring a crush. “I like warriors, and she has to be funny and dress cool! And she has to be smart, of course.”

“Of course, only the finest bad bitches for the princess of Wakanda,” Erik joked. 

“If I tell you something, promise not to tell  _ anyone _ ?”

“I already swore myself to secrecy, fool.”

“I like Ayo,”’ Shuri whispered. Then, her eyes dropped and her tone lowered. “But I’m too young for her, and she had a crush on Nakia.”

That little piece of information made Erik pause. Even women weren’t immune to her charms after all.

“You don’t say? What happened with that?”

“Nakia is straight, ugh so boring,” Shuri lamented. “I can’t date, and mommy wants to arrange a marriage for me but I told her I’d rather be an old maid than stuck with some ugly guy with smelly breath.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“She set me up on a date once. I bailed on him and stole the jet,” Shuri giggled.

Erik grinned. “I see it runs in the blood. Why don’t you join the Dora Milaje? Then you can hang out around hot girls all the time.”

Shuri groaned. “I know, but I would be around my brother all the time too, and it’s bad enough that everyone always asks me where he’s at and what he’s doing. Like, call Okoye! I’m not a Dora.”

Erik could respect that. “Listen, since you told me something secret, I’ll tell you one too.”

“Tell me two because I told you two!” Shuri demanded.

“Alright alright, bossy, damn, you and your brother are so alike,” Erik laughed. “I like men too, so don’t worry.”

Shuri made a dramatic gasping sound and yelled out triumphantly. “You and I are  _ both _ the gay cousin!” Then she stopped for a moment and squinted at Erik. “You didn’t go to Jabari Land just because the men are all big and beefy, did you?”

“Welp, gotta go. Great talking to ya and I’ll see you soon,” Erik said quickly, ignoring Shuri’s hysterical protests before hanging up. He let his arm drop to his side and sighed.

He had a lot on his mind, and a tiny lesbian was the least of his worries.

Erik dragged his tired and sore body from the bed and pushed open the heavy doors to his room. He wondered if it was easier with a knobkerrie, something about the wood interacting with each other and made a mental note to ask about that later. He traversed freely through the corridors, his freedom given to him as a test of his good faith. He hadn’t done much exploring out of fear of being seen as spying, but it did get boring at times. 

He found his way up to the main hall and found Usochi standing outside of a room talking to another guard. As he approached, both men stopped and stared at him until he was close enough to speak comfortably.

“Y’all know where I can find M’Baku?”

“What business do you have with his majesty?”

About a thousand ready responses swirled around his tongue, but Erik resisted. “I just need to talk to him if he isn’t busy.”

Usochi looked at the other guard and gave him a curt nod. He dipped into the room, leaving Usochi with Erik.

“Enjoying your stay here?” Usochi asked.

“Sure, it’s like a vacation where I work out all day,” Erik crossed his arms and stared down the guard. He leaned against the wall casually and tried to look as disinterested as possible in any further conversation. Fortunately, Usochi dropped it, and when the other guard stepped out, he nodded for Erik to enter.

“Do not keep him up all night,” Usochi said as Erik walked to the door. “He needs his beauty rest.”

Erik couldn’t even begin to consider what any of that had meant, but left it for more pressing matters, such as the fact that M’Baku wasn’t in his room. Erik looked behind him in confusion, but they had already shut the doors. He remembered then, the way the bathrooms were set up here and walked over to the far wall to push against the stone that exposed the bathroom. Was he really about to have a conversation with M’Baku most likely naked? Possibly. Shuri would die if he told her.

“Yo, you naked in here?” Erik called, sticking his head around the corner. He didn’t see the spring at first, but heard M’Baku’s reply.

“Don’t be shy,” he called, and Erik had to fight the urge to just leave. Still, he had made it this far, and he  _ did _ need to talk, so he kicked off his boots and dropped his tunic on the floor before continuing through the large bathroom and around the corner to a short corridor that descended down some stairs. He finally arrived to the steamy, hot room of the hot spring and grew lightheaded by the shift in temperature. M’Baku was sitting in the tub on the other side, arms spread and completely naked from what Erik could tell. He was trying not to look below M’Baku’s large chest.

“Are you going to waste my time or come in?” M’Baku barked. Then he swirled the water around and added quietly, “The water’s great!”

Erik was never going to get used to this, he realized as he shed his undershorts and climbed inside. “You know, y’all gotta weird sense of humor here.”

“Who’s joking? People are telling jokes when they should be serious?” M’Baku frowned. “I will punish anyone who commits such a crime.”

Erik snorted and hissed when his balls touched the hot water. He felt like a crawfish dropped into a boil. M’Baku laughed at his discomfort and tossed him a towel.

“Use this, and you’ll adjust.”

“This is how you sterilize yourself, you know,” Erik pointed out. “Our junk not supposed to be cooked.”

“My  _ junk  _ is not as delicate as yours,” M’Baku said, eyeing Erik. “Now what are we here to discuss, or did you just come to admire my amazing physique?”

Erik decided to bat back, “Oh you caught me, I just couldn’t resist a big fine such as yourself.”

M’Baku’s chest bounced in the water with laughter. “I’m glad you are finally beginning to enjoy yourself. Now really, what troubles you?”

Erik leaned back against the rock wall and tried to figure out where to begin. “So I just spoke to Shuri -”

“The little girl?”

“She’s not that little, but yeah. She said T’Challa and Nakia are engaged and expecting a child.”

M’Baku’s brow deepened. “And you are telling me this because…”

“I might be the father of the child,” Erik sighed. “I don’t want a kid.”

“Why?”

Erik scowled at M’Baku. “Fuck you mean,  _ why? _ Isn’t it obvious? I’m the last person on earth who should have a child, behind maybe Nakia.”

M’Baku stood from the spring, and Erik watched rivulets of hot water trailing down his torso to his pelvis, still submerged. He unconsciously licked his lips and looked up at him.

“You don’t want to raise a child?”

Erik made a frustrated noise. “I don’t know  _ how _ to raise a child, and I don’t feel like taking care of one.”

M’Baku waded through the water to sit at Erik’s side. “You are being given a chance to correct history. Raise your child the way your father would have raised you.”

Erik’s sinuses and eyes stung at that and his throat went dry. “I’m not good enough. My dad wasn’t corrupted like me.”

“And who corrupted you? Not him!” M’Baku pointed out. “And you’re part of the Jabari tribe now, so you will have all of us to help you.”

Erik’s head whipped around so fast that his locs almost hit M’Baku in the face. M’Baku grunted and pushed the hair back from Erik’s forehead in an act of softness so unexpected Erik could feel his guard slipping into the water.

“I thought you weren’t going to decide until after a month?”

“I said you had a week to prove yourself, capable of living here, and you did. You have a month to prove you are  _ worthy _ , but I already decided that when Chineze told me about how he caught you singing to the trees this morning when you went to water them.”

The water suddenly felt hotter and sweat formed on Erik’s forehead. “So he heard me, huh.”

“You should sing for me sometime,” M’Baku smiled. “I could use the entertainment.” He wrapped a heavy arm around Erik’s shoulders and pulled him into a side hug, chuckling and patting Erik on the chest. “You are welcome to stay here, or you are welcome to leave. I hope you stay, if only because I think -”

“I’m staying,” Erik said quickly, looking M’Baku in the eye. He was resolute in his decision; there was no home for him to return to, and the people here had no quarrels with him personally.

At this distance, Erik could finally appreciate M’Baku’s imposing facial features up close, how hard they seemed far away but now softened into curvy lines. His wide nose and lips, his deceptively strong jawline hidden beneath the beard and large cheeks. He was soft and hard all at once, aggressively masculine and yet...harmless. Where Erik resented the parts that made him seem weak, M’Baku merely embraced them and allowed his actions to speak for himself.

“I am glad that you’ll stay,” M’Baku said. “I think you will find what you need here.”

“And what do I need?”

“A home,” M’Baku replied. He let his answer linger in the air as the two men sat in the hot spring, their skin hot and slick from the oils in the water. M’Baku offered to scrub Erik’s back with a coarse brush and he accepted, the sensation of bristles over his rough skin something new and unfamiliar to look forward to. It was almost sensual the way M’Baku took his time, tracing his scars first before rubbing at Erik’s shoulders and neck in a gentle massage.

“What happened to washing my back?” Erik grunted, his head lolling forward with relaxation.

M’Baku pressed his fingers in rolling motions against the base of Erik’s neck harder. “In due time. For now, just enjoy this.”

Erik wanted to remove himself from an increasingly dangerous situation, but either M’Baku was perfectly aware of the effect he was having on him or was completely oblivious. Erik bit back his moans and fished under the water for the towel he had used previously to soften the blow of the hot water and held it in front of him now, trying to maintain some dignity.

“Okay, I think I’m getting sleepy,” Erik tried to pull away, but M’Baku held him tight in his grip.

“Tomorrow, I want you to come with me to the sparring grounds. I want to have a talk with you there,” M’Baku said finally before releasing him. Erik quickly shook off the arousal and heat to pull himself to his feet and climb out the water. As he did, M’Baku took the chance to smack Erik’s ass, and Erik caught himself almost falling back into the water if it weren’t for his death grip on M’Baku’s arm to steady himself.

“Man what the fuck?”

The leader just laughed, and Erik hurried out before he was left explaining any other pointed details.

 

The following morning, Erik followed M’Baku to the Jabari training grounds located in a ravine south of the city. The climb down had been somewhat precarious, even with Erik using the aids available but he tried his best not to rely on them as a form of warm up. He needed his body limber and ready for whatever M’Baku was prepared to subject him to, since he’d had little chance to properly workout outside of working with the loggers. 

The training grounds sat surrounded by mountain walls and rock, dense clay dirt giving softly beneath their feet as they walked. Erik tried not to wiggle his toes in the soft earth which he could probably get a good grip in if he was doing any throws. There were weights made of stone and Jabari wood, familiar exercise bars, leather jump ropes, fighting staffs, spears, and knobkerries Erik assumed were used for practice.

“So who all comes here?” He asked as they made there way past people lifting and spotting each other. A few heads turned to cast an intrigued glance their way, but most focused on their own private sparring matches.  


M’Baku nodded at a few who bowed respectfully at them as they passed. “Anyone who wants to.”

“I thought everyone was a warrior?”

“Then who would build our homes? Who would carve our wood and mine the mountains? Everyone should be able to defend themselves, but not everyone must fight. Someone has to heal the sick and injured and look after the children.”

“And who becomes a warrior?”

“Anyone who wants to become one,” M’Baku replied. They stopped at the gate in front of the sparring circle, a giant dirt ring encased by a high fence of wood. Everything was so simple and simply created here, that Erik began to wonder if it was intentional; clearly they could have used metal in many instances, but chose to rely on their wood.

“Strip down to your shorts, this might get messy,” M’Baku advised as he began undoing the straps of his armor. Despite being familiar with his body, Erik was still unable to pull his eyes away from M’Baku’s massive frame - he was impressed by the man’s bulk, how his soft curves belied the solid rock of muscle beneath him. Erik had seen man guys in the military who worked out just to look like a  _ Men’s Health _ cover, but he knew it was the one with the fat that he had to be  _ really  _ careful about; their stamina and ability to withstand body hits were unparalleled. Erik envied how M’Baku swaggered around comfortably in his large frame, loose and unbothered whereas Erik still found himself unconsciously tense and comparing. He wanted to be bigger, but genetics had maxed him out at his current size.

"What happened to having a talk?"

M'Baku raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Have you not heard? Fights _are_ conversations. Come, let me hear what you have to say."

Erik grumbled under his breath about being unprepared even though he had a niggling suspicion in the back of his head as they had descended into the ravine. When Erik had finally gotten ready and finished stretching, down to nothing but his shorts and bare feet digging into the dirt, M’Baku stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. “Do you want to fight?”

Erik cocked his head to the side. “Do I have a choice?”

“You’ve always had a choice.”

“Then I choose to fight,” Erik raised his fists and bent his knees.

“But do you accept the consequences of losing?” M’Baku was being intentionally cryptic, which was throwing Erik off. He usually understood what the leader meant when he spoke between the lines, but now was not the case. If losing this fight meant he would be kicked out, Erik was ready to fight to the death to cement his place here.

“Yeah, I do,” Erik answered, never moving from his position.

With that, M’Baku charged at him, yelling a battle cry as he covered a lot of ground quickly. Erik braced but side stepped out of the way to grab M’Baku’s outstretched fist and try to topple him. M’Baku planted his feet and yanked Erik off balance, grabbing him by the same hand that held his and throwing him to the ground. 

Erik rolled and was on his feet in an instant, charging back at M’Baku and aiming for his legs. M’Baku sprawled, throwing his feet back out of reach and wrapping his arms around Erik’s torso to hold him before circling around and forcing Erik onto his knees. M’Baku grabbed Erik’s wrists and pulled them out from underneath him, shifting his full weight on Erik’s back and pinning him face first to the dirt. Erik could have sworn he heard the voices of others in the distance, and the thought of someone seeing him so vulnerable mortified him to his core.

A second take down. Erik growled in his chest and scrabbled to get his feet out from underneath him and sit up. He pulled himself to his feet, half-dragging M’Baku along with him and twisted out of the hold the larger man had on him. Erik bared his teeth and swiped at M’Baku’s head but M’Baku ducked tackled Erik to the ground, getting him on his back again.

Erik elbowed M’Baku in the back of the head to get him to let go, but M’Baku kept his hold. He punched him a few times, but nothing seemed to phase M’Baku until he stood and took Erik with him, dropping him on the ground calmly.

“Focus that anger,” M’Baku warned. “Don’t let it end you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Erik spat. His ears roared with blood as frustration and embarrassment coursed through his veins. He shouldn’t have been put on his back this easily, repeatedly, and yet M’Baku seemed to move faster than he could have anticipated despite his size. He was shockingly agile, and when Erik went to kick at his side, M’Baku simply grabbed his ankle in his arm and twisted, causing Erik to cry out and go limp as pain shot through his muscle. M’Baku dropped him and Erik limped back up to deliver a swift punch to M’Baku’s chest.

It was futile. He knew as much, but he had no other options. M’Baku watched and grunted as Erik took a few shots at his abdomen, clenching until he no longer was swinging. 

“Are you finished?” M’Baku stumbled back with each shove Erik threw at him. The energy in his movements had started to dwindle, not from fighting, but once M’Baku caught a glimpse of Erik’s face he saw that same anger he’d seen when they first spoke. He scanned the outside of the cage and noticed a few people watching with interest, and then refocused on Erik.

“What’s -” M’Baku was cut off when he got the wind knocked out of him from Erik’s headbutt to the solar plexus. He coughed and doubled over, and Erik took advantage of the brief distraction to smash his knee into M’Baku’s nose. He yelled and kicked M’Baku in the chest, finally toppling the other man onto his ass just to sit on top of him and swing mercilessly at M’Baku’s face.

M’Baku rolled Erik off and wiped the blood from his face before standing over Erik and pulling him to his feet as well. Erik tried to pull away, but M’Baku held him in place, even though Erik continued to hit him.

“Confront it, N’Jadaka!” M’Baku barked. “Admit what ails you!”

Erik went to sweep M’Baku’s legs, but found himself instead thrown back a few feet. “There’s nothing wrong!” Erik wiped the sweat from his brow before it could fall into his eyes. “I’m just tryna beat your ass!”

“There are more ways to force submission than straight violence,” M’Baku licked the blood from his lips and focused on Erik, waiting for the next rush of attacks.

Erik came forward, and M’Baku braced himself with the support of the wind blowing from behind him.

Instead of allowing the hits, this time he blocked each one, ducking and dodging the flurry of attacks until his back was pressed to the wall of the cage. M’Baku caught Erik’s fist and swung him, slamming him into the wall as well to pin him up against it. Erik’s arms were trapped beneath the crushing weight of M’Baku’s grip, unable to defend himself against the bear hug that was threatening to squeeze the life from him. 

The wind blew cool and refreshing against their hot skin, clouds covering the sun as thunder rolled in the distance. One by one, the spectators looked worriedly at the sky and then the fighters before deciding to part from the show.

“Do you see yet? You cannot tackle all of your life problems with violence and anger!”

Erik shook in his hold, and he tried to headbutt M’Baku again to get free. Instead, M’Baku released one arm to hold Erik’s throat and Erik’s eyes flew open, suddenly clear and focused.

“Look at me, and tell me what you’re fighting,” M’Baku said quietly. “It’s okay.”

Erik once again broke free of M’Baku’s heavy arms, but when he tried to kick at him again, M’Baku only blocked his leg and cracked him in the jaw.

Erik’s head spun, his ears rang, and his eyes blurred with tears and the bursts of stars. He tried to regain his composure, but he tasted copper in his mouth, and when his vision cleared, M’Baku was standing over him, propping himself up with his hands pressed against the cage.

“You cannot keep running from who you are forever,” M’Baku said. “It’s time to finally come home, N’Jadaka.”

“I  _ can’t _ !” Erik yelled. Lightning cracked, illuminating the now dark sky. 

M’Baku struck him again, but less hard. “You are so  _ stubborn! _ You don’t have to keep living like this!”

“I don’t have to live at all!”

M’Baku reared back and slapped Erik in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. Erik fell to his hands and knees, huffing raggedly when he looked up to see the dark look on M’Baku’s face. M’Baku crouched in front of him and dragged him up by the hair.

The thunder boomed through the mountains and large drops of rain began to pelt from the sky. “Don’t you  _ ever _ say that again,” M’Baku hissed. “You are not worth giving up on, so don’t give up on yourself.”

Erik grit his teeth and cast his eyes downward, sucking in raspy breaths. He suddenly dug his nails into M’Baku’s wrist to try to force him to let go, but the moisture of the rain on his skin made him slippery and hard to grip. M’Baku wrapped his arm around Erik’s throat and rolled on his back with Erik flush against his front. He held him in a headlock with his ankles keeping Erik’s legs separated. Erik thrashed and flailed, trying to pull out, but M’Baku only tightened his choke hold, his other hand pushing Erik’s head forward over his bicep. Erik choked and coughed, but still refused to submit.

“You’ve been hurt!” M’Baku shouted over the thunder and rain. “You’ve been betrayed, and you’ve done horrid, unforgivable things because of it!”

Erik tried to cry out, but it died in the back of his throat while he angrily scratched at M’Baku’s forearm and tried to break free.

“It’s time to say goodbye to your past! You have your own life to lead!” M’Baku ordered. “Just tap, accept this defeat, and accept yourself!”

Erik’s eyes teared up, and his hands fell to his side.

“Do you want to die like this? Refusing to swallow your pride and accept help and love? Because I do not think that you do!”

M’Baku’s bicep flexed, and Erik’s hand shot up again to grab at his shoulder.

With flash of lightning, he tapped.

M’Baku quickly let go of his hold but he didn’t let go of Erik, instead sitting them up and holding him in his arms as Erik gasped for air in between pained sobs. The rain fell harder, his tears mingling with the droplets of water that pelted his face and dripped from his locs and down his shoulders. His body trembled violently with adrenaline and the rush of emotions flooding through him, but M’Baku simply wrapped his arms around Erik and held him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“That’s it, let it out. Just let it go,” M’Baku murmured in his ear. “I know it hurts, but it will stop soon. You fought well, N’Jadaka. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Erik said nothing, but didn’t rebuke M’Baku’s touch or words of comfort. Instead, he allowed M’Baku to help him stand and check him over for any serious injuries, and then followed directions when M’Baku told him to quietly climb on his back.

M’Baku climbed back up the ravine during a thunderstorm with a drowsy, full grown man on his back as if it were nothing, and Erik had never felt more secure in his life then when his face was buried in the back of M’Baku’s neck, breathing the scent of sweat and dirt and the tangy muskiness of M’Baku himself.

It was relieving when M’Baku realized Erik was no longer putting up a fight or pretenses and allowed himself to be carried and cared for. No one said anything, and they didn’t need an explanation - it was Jabari tradition that a hard head made for a soft behind, and whenever a warrior became too arrogant for his own good, it was necessary to humble and remind them that their strength could very well be their own downfall.

Caution was good. Patience was good. Humility was a must.

And today, Erik had learned this the hard way.

Before M’Baku on his bathroom floor sat not the same murderous man with a chip on his shoulder, but a child, raw from a spanking and reflecting on his lesson. It was a last resort M’Baku didn’t have to use often, but gladly facilitated. If he had to humble his warriors to save them from making foolish and rash decisions, then so be it. He would rather they lose their pride than they lose their life.

But now Erik was willing to listen, and although his spirit was broken it was not beyond repair. The message had been delivered in a language Erik was fluent in, and as he allowed M’Baku to wipe the blood from his plump lips and soft cheeks, M’Baku could finally begin to see the man Erik was all along: lonely, scared, and desperate to be loved and accepted.

M’Baku pushed his hair from his face and tied it back with a leather strip from his own armor, then used a towel to finish drying him.

Erik finally -  _ finally  _ \- met M’Baku’s eyes, and with the window of vulnerability quickly closing as he came to and finished processing everything that had just occurred, M’Baku sent up a silent prayer of forgiveness to Hanuman and leaned forward to close the gap between their lips.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humble. is basically an excerpt from this point, so if you wanna see the fucking parts go peep that.

The sound of water bouncing against stone echoed throughout the bathroom chamber, the only sound Erik could process since both men had ceased breathing. Erik blinked, searching M’Baku’s stone still face for an explanation for the sudden kiss. His lips tingled from the contact, and all he could smell was the scent of M’Baku’s sweat filling his nose. A hunger burned deep in his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to move or speak.

“I apologize for being forward,” M’Baku said quietly. “If I’ve offended you -”

Erik snapped out of his daze and grabbed M’Baku’s head with a shaky urgency to smash their lips together again. He drank from M’Baku’s lips desperately needing the cooling relief they offered after such a hard battle. The stone floor wasn’t the most comfortable, but he stood on his knees nonetheless and pushed himself against the larger, warm body still covered in dirt and blood. He didn’t care how filthy either of them was, he just knew he needed to get closer than this.

M’Baku grabbed Erik by the back of his neck and grunted when Erik nipped at his lip, begging for entrance. He teased Erik’s lips with a flick of his broad tongue, and Erik let out a soft moan that allowed M’Baku to take what he needed. It had been so long since he had been intimate with another person, years since his father had passed, but he still recalled the intimate actions he had shared with his past partners.

This was different, however. This was not a brother in arms, but an outsider and criminal at that. This was a man, for whom forgiveness should never had been spared, but he tasted like absolution with the faint tinge of hope in the aftertaste. M’Baku wanted nothing more than to take him to bed, this newly ignited passion so quick to burn that he didn’t want to see it extinguish, but he had to.

M’Baku, with great hesitancy, pulled himself away but kept Erik in place by the hand on his neck. Erik looked confused when he tried to follow his movements, but was met with resistance.

“It’s not you,” M’Baku said breathlessly, licking the taste of Erik from his lips. “I cannot fulfill your physical desires.” He stood and helped Erik to his feet as well, looking down past Erik at the floor.

“What is it then? You can’t just beat my ass and then kiss me and tell me this will never go any further!” Erik snapped. 

M’Baku closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then took Erik by the hand and led him to the shower, a cord that when pulled would start the flow of hot water. He finished stripping himself and Erik of their dirty shorts, then pulled Erik under the spray and took a brush and a chunk of black soap in hand and began a lather.

“When I became the leader of the Jabari, I was only twenty-five,” M’Baku began. “My father had been sick, but he had managed to carry on his duties for some time before succumbing to his disease.” He scrubbed at the base of Erik’s neck and worked his way over the broad shoulders and deltoids, focusing on the way the suds sluiced between the scars.

“I had sat for days fasting in prayer, reciting a chant to Hanuman to make him get better,” M’Baku said quietly. He worked his way down Erik’s back gently, then under his arms and along them. “I was to recite this chant twenty-one thousand times, and I thought I did.”

“But he didn’t survive,” Erik finished quietly, understanding now the motivation behind the devout practices. “That’s not your fault, though.”

M’Baku spun him around to rinse his back and begin washing Erik’s front. “It is. I did not pray enough, and for that my father’s death lies in my hands. I chose from that moment to remain celibate and alone, like the god Hanuman, in order to curry favor.”

Erik shivered at the bristles across his chest, but focused enough to grab M’Baku by the shoulders and force him to meet his eyes. “Hey, listen to me. You always tryna make forgive myself for shit that  _ is _ my fault, and you won’t even let go something out of your control. You know, where I’m from there’s a saying that God won’t give you more than you can handle. Maybe Hanuman figured you could handle losing your father and becoming a leader, because he didn’t want to keep dragging things out when he was suffering.”

The brush and soap  fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Erik let M’Baku sink into his embrace and held him as silent tears mingled with the water falling over them.

“All this time you told me to stop holding in my anger, and you won’t even take your own advice. You hardheaded,” Erik scoffed gently. He rubbed M’Baku’s shoulders, then lifted his head from the crook of his neck and kissed him again. “You the softest hard nigga I know.”

M’Baku felt as if he had been trapped beneath a rock slide only to be freed finally, by the last person he suspected was capable of moving those rocks. The priests, his family and friends, the people, had not managed to do what Erik accomplished in so few words. Their comfort for his loss and support for his future was enough to keep him going, but it was not enough to move him past his loss that he carried in his heart every day.

_ Perhaps that was why I have been so adamant about fixing him _ , M’Baku thought.  _ I was trying to fix myself. _

“I need you,” M’Baku said when they separated again. “I need you to stay. Hanuman wouldn’t have delivered you to me otherwise.”

A funny look of curiosity and amusement flashed in Erik’s eyes, but he flashed a sharp smile with dimples and said, “I don’t know, I was thinking about climbing back down that mountain tonight.”

A challenge. M’Baku could see the fight in Erik’s eyes and knew he was going to waste all day and night with this man if he wasn’t careful. “Maybe this evening, if you can get me on my back.”

Erik licked at M’Baku’s lips and grabbed his ass. “I’m moonwalking back down that mountain after I do.”

 

Music filled Shuri’s lab over the sound of her techs conversing with one another over projects. She was still brainstorming her next playlist to send Erik, but hadn’t come up with any good titles yet, when it finally hit her to reach out for suggestions. She looked up to where Nakia and T’Challa were talking with city designers and a few of her own staff about the architectural plans for the refugee center that was to begin building in the months to come if everything went smoothly. She knew T’Challa still had to go out and pull some war dogs out of their missions to work in the new center, since Nakia was pregnant now and not allowed to travel (per the queen mother’s orders more than T’Challa’s).

Shuri checked to make sure no one was watching and left her desk to go to a quieter, more isolated part of the lab. She settled on her office and slipped between the automatic doors which open and shut swiftly in silence. Shuri raised her wrist and pressed record.

“Hey Erik, I’m working on your next playlist and I wanted to surprise you but I’m struggling to choose between “Gay Cousin Gang” and “ROCKHAMPTON,” so if you have any better ideas, let me know!” Shuri finished the recording and hit send, then turned around to find Nakia standing behind her.

Shuri jumped and clutched her chest, letting out a squeal. “Bast have mercy!” Shuri half-shrieked. “Don’t you spies ever announce yourselves?”

The war dog ignored the comment and nodded toward Shuri’s wrist. “So you’ve been in contact with Erik?”

Shuri looked away. “I gave him Kimoyo beads before he left.”

Nakia nodded. “Give me his address and location.”

The young scientist backed away, shaking her head. “No! Where he’s at is none of your business!”

Nakia followed her, backing her against the wall with her hand outstretched. “Shuri, give me the beads. You’re dealing with a dangerous man, and -”

“He’s not any more dangerous than the rest of you!” Shuri shouted. “He’s not that bad!”

“Don’t let him fool you, I’m looking out for your own good!” Nakia growled. “Now give me the beads, or I will take them.”

“You’re not my mom, ugly ass doodoo head!” Shuri said in a high pitched nasally voice.

Nakia rolled her eyes at the reference and grabbed Shuri’s wrist, yanking the beads off by force. At that moment, T’Challa walked in through the doors with an upset look on his face at the sight of Nakia with Shuri backed against the wall in clear resistance.

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” He asked slowly.

Before Shuri could explain, Nakia tossed the beads to him and let her go. “She’s been talking to Erik and hasn’t told anyone.”

T’Challa’s face darkened. “What are you telling him?”

“Nothing!” Shuri cried, her voice rising in pitch. “I swear, it’s nothing just some stupid jokes!”

“Then we can go through your log and see these stupid jokes and be assured nothing of concern is at play, right?” T’Challa suggested. Shuri protested again and tried to run past Nakia to grab the beads, but Nakia held her back.

T’Challa located their last conversation and played back a few seconds near the end of the conversation.

_ “I like Ayo, but I’m too young for her, and she had a crush on Nakia.” _

_ “You don’t say? What happened with that?” _

_ “Nakia is straight, ugh so boring. I can’t date, and mommy wants to arrange a marriage for me but I told her I’d rather be an old maid than stuck with some ugly guy with smelly breath.” _

_ “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” _

_ “She set me up on a date once. I bailed on him and stole the jet.”  _

_ “I see it runs in the blood. Why don’t you join the Dora Milaje? Then you can hang out around hot girls all the time.” _

_ “I know, but I would be around my brother all the time too, and it’s bad enough that everyone always asks me where he’s at and what he’s doing. Like, call Okoye! I’m not a Dora.” _

_ “Listen, since you told me something secret, I’ll tell you one too.” _

_ “Tell me two because I told you two!”  _

_ “Alright alright, bossy, damn, you and your brother are so alike. I like men too, so don’t worry.” _

The sounds of the lab were distant through the glass, but sounded loud in the silence that followed after T’Challa stopped the recording. Nakia had let go of Shuri, whose face was covered by her hands. Nakia looked as dumbstruck at T’Challa, who clearly was in over his head by the way he mirrored her shocked look.

Shuri was the first to break the silence, dropping her hands to reveal her red eyes and tear streaked cheeks. “Why don’t you trust me? I’m not an idiot, like W’Kabi or a whore like Nakia!”

Nakia’s face twisted in offense, but T’Challa cut her off before she could begin. “Shuri, I am sorry -” T’Challa started, but Shuri ran in the opposite direction from the both of them and slid open an access panel behind her desk. A scanner plate appeared, and when she pressed her hand to it, a door slid open and she entered without looking back as it closed behind her.

T’Challa looked to Nakia for guidance, but she was just as lost as he was. There was a lot of information to process from those few seconds, the main of which was that Ayo, his own guard, had probably more than once been checking out Nakia’s ass while on detail with them. Multiple times. That was a conflict of interest, even under the discipline of the Dora Milaje, for if he was attacked there was a chance Ayo could preserve Nakia over him. He didn’t like to be suspicious of his own guards, but it was worth bringing up at least to Okoye.

And that Shuri had not told him she liked girls…

“I was an ass,” T’Challa sighed. “I will talk to her later about this.”

Nakia placed her hand on his shoulder. “We were doing what we thought was the right thing. At least now we know where he is.”

“I always knew,” T’Challa said quietly, not meeting her eye. “I just didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d go after him.”

Nakia’s hand dropped from his shoulder. She glared at him in disgust, shaking her head. “I am trying to earn back your trust, and you cannot even dignify me with the bare minimum.” She walked out without another word, leaving T’Challa alone and frustrated in the spacious office that suddenly felt too small.

 

It had been too long since M’Baku awoke with another body in his bed, and particularly one with as voracious an appetite as Erik’s. He slept soundly with his face buried where M’Baku’s pectoral and armpit met, mouth open and drooling. It was cute.

He gently rubbed Erik’s thigh in appreciation of the firmness beneath his hand. His ass jiggled with a small shake, but he felt the muscle beneath it all the same. He was constructed like a man built to kill, but last night he had given himself to M’Baku with such implicit trust that he found himself wondering where he’d been all his life. Getting through the rest of the day had proved difficult trying to focus on actual work when he knew that night he would be experiencing the first sexual encounter of his life since his father passed.

How could Erik have been so understanding and compassionate, when he was still so deeply wounded? For all the bad Nakia may have done, maybe she had not been all bad for him. Some of that empathy and humility shone through in his actions and words.

There was still much to work on, but M’Baku felt confident that it would not be much harder from here on out. There had been much progress already, even before Erik came whether he recognized it or not - his own narrow view of himself probably prevented any genuine self reflection, but he was ready to be Erik’s mirror.

“Good morning, sa,” Usochi’s voice came from the doorway. M’Baku groaned and lifted his hand from where it had begun teasing along Erik’s crack, hoping to wake him up for a nice round of morning sex before work. 

“It would have been if you had not interrupted,” M’Baku rolled over to face the door, not minding his nudity. It wouldn’t have been the first time Usochi had seen him in his birth clothes.

“There is an important matter that requires your urgent response,” Usochi replied, ignoring Erik in bed next to him. “You will want to wake N’Jadaka as well for this.”

Now M’Baku was alert. He sat up and smacked Erik’s chest a few times to rouse him. Erik scowled and rubbed at the tender spot, hissing. 

“Yo, what the fuck?” he grumbled in a dry voice.

“Your cousin is here,” M’Baku frowned. “What does T’Challa want?”

Usochi shook his head. “Not T’Challa. The princess.”

Erik leapt out of bed in an instant and found his undershorts, pulling them on along with his boots. “Is she okay?”

M’Baku regarded him with mirth. “I guess we will see, won’t we?”

 

Shuri helped herself to the warm yam and tea offered while she waited for M’Baku and Erik to arrive to M’Baku’s consultation chamber. She sat close to the fire and ate in silence, trying not to think about how much trouble she’d be in if she returned home. No doubt the Dora Milaje were probably scouring every inch of Wakanda for her, T’Challa included, but would not dare touch the Jabari border until absolutely a last resort. She had some time to buy, at least until they came eventually.

“Shuri?” Erik’s voice came from the doorway, and she leapt from the floor to run over to him. She stopped short, taking in the bewildered expression on his face.

“I don’t know if I can hug you, but-”

Erik pulled her into his chest and swore, clinging tight to her and she embraced him back. “What the fuck are you doing here? Did you hike up here by yourself? Do the others know where you are?”

Shuri noted that hugging Erik like this, bare chested to where she could feel his scars, was somewhat strange made even more so by the fact that the last time he’d touched her he had been trying to kill her.

“This is the only place in Wakanda where you can find privacy, apparently,” Shuri joked. She looked behind him at M’Baku standing regally over the both of them and went wide eyed. He hadn’t put a shirt on either, and this was the first time she’d seen him out from the armor up close. He was just as big as he’d seem on challenge day, if not more.

And then Shuri realized they both were shirtless, and had came together.

She gave Erik a sidelong glance, and Erik looked between him and M’Baku before catching on. “Don’t start that shit right now or I’ll throw you off the nearest cliff.”

“Okay okay!” Shuri giggled. She winked at Erik and went back to collect her plate and cup from the floor. “So I’m moving here, and I’ll work too in exchange for refuge from my nosy sister-in-law.”

Erik immediately shot down that idea. “Nope, you’re going home as soon as I’ve had breakfast.”

“Erik!” Shuri whined. “Nakia took my Kimoyo beads and played back the part of our conversation where I said I liked Ayo! It was so embarrassing, she snuck in on me sending you a message and cornered me and everything! And then T’Challa joined her and took her side!”

Erik sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t cut out for this, but M’Baku seemed entertained. “So she spied on you and exposed your private matters before your brother?”

Shuri nodded at M’Baku. “I ran away here, and I’m really tired, so if I can at least take a nap before you force me to go back, that would be great.”

“Absolutely not,” Erik answered. “The sooner we get you home, the better.” He looked to M’Baku and said quieter, “You know it’d be bad optics for them to come up here with an army just to retrieve her.”

M’Baku stroked his beard and nodded. “An act of aggression. It’s already bad enough that I allowed one stray cat in without taking in a kitten as well, but she’s a child.”

“I’m not a little girl,” Shuri huffed. "I made it up here just fine."  


“You ran away because you were scolded,” M’Baku pointed out. “That is childish. And now you refuse to go home, unaware that you are creating a diplomatic nightmare. Your mother is probably worried sick about you.”

Shuri folded her arms and dropped her shoulders. “I don’t care how other people feel when they won’t even consider  _ my _ feelings.”

M’Baku exchanged glances with Erik, and Erik rolled his eyes before draping his arm around Shuri’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s take a walk. We’ll let you stay tonight on the condition that you call T’Challa and let him know you’re alright.” When Shuri acquiesced, Erik said to M’Baku, “I’ll catch up with you later to discuss details about returning.”

“Of course. Don’t wander outside the palace is all I ask for the time being.”

Erik led Shuri out the room and waited until they were out of earshot of any guards before hissing, “You must have lost your Wakandan ass mind!” He guided her down the halls through the maze of rooms to his own and gave her a small shove inside. He snatched the blanket off his bed and threw it at her.

“Sit tight while I take a shower, it’s too damn early for this,” Erik grumbled. “And call T’Challa from my beads, let him know you here ‘fore Okoye run up in this bitch shooting and starts a civil war because they think I kidnapped you.”

Shuri pouted, but she caught the beads when he tossed them to her and made herself comfortable on the bed while Erik disappeared moving walls of stone. She was curious to look around at what kind of technology Jabari Land had to offer, but knew she was on thin ice as it was. 

She popped up the video call screen and waited for T’Challa to answer. She had to figure out a way to explain herself without getting yelled at. It wasn’t likely, now that she’d been gone for a whole day, but it was worth a shot.

“Who - Shuri? Why are you calling from Erik’s bracelet? Where is he? Where are you?”

Shuri raised her hand to stop him. “He’s taking a shower, and I’m in Jabari Land.”

“Jabari - Bast, Shuri, you really are pushing my nerves!”

“It’s not my fault! No one told Nakia to meddle in my business!”

“She has every right to do so! You sneak around to send messages to a man we can barely trust -”

“She trusted him enough to spread her legs!”

“We aren’t talking about that right now and bring it up again and you will be banned from your lab until that baby is born!” T’Challa shouted. “I’m coming to get you immediately!”

“You can’t!” Shuri yelled back. “They said it was going to be a diplomatic nightmare if you come, so they’ll just bring me back tomorrow! Leave me alone!” Shuri shut off the beads and threw them at the foot of the bed. 

She hadn’t handled that very well, but it didn’t feel fair - everyone else was allowed to interact with Erik except her, and she was the only one who hadn’t been corrupted by him. W’Kabi had laid down his loyalty and Nakia had laid down - she only talked to him, the one thing no one else seemed interested in doing. They used him, and she understood why - even for the Jabari, it would be a powerful bargaining tool to keep Erik around, a killer who proved he could take the throne and  _ had _ . Not only that, but he was of royal blood. They should have rebuked him from the moment he arrived, but they hadn’t, and Shuri wondered if M’Baku’s heart was truly in the right place when it came to her cousin. She didn’t want to see him just get used again, because he was not a weapon but a  _ person _ and everyone seemed to forget that. She’d forgotten too, briefly, until he sat and told her how displaced he felt even surrounded by his home and family. He wasn’t a part of this culture the way she was, but she understood not fitting in  _ with _ the culture all the same.

And she realized, Nakia probably did as well. M’Baku too. They were all Wakandan rejects, and they were the only people Erik had formed any connection to.

But Nakia was loyal to T’Challa, and M’Baku was loyal to the Jabari. Shuri?

Well, she had some free time.

Erik came out the shower in a fresh set of Jabari clothes and handed her a cape of fur which she quickly took instead of the blanket and clipped around her shoulders. It was large and heavy, draping over the floor and pooling around her feet. Erik took one look at her and laughed.

“Shut up!” Shuri giggled. “It’s not my fault everyone here is huge!” A mischievous glint caught her eye as she smiled. “And speaking of huge -”

“Nah nah, we not finna start that,” Erik laughed. “Come on, I need to get something to eat too. You called T’Challa?”

Shuri explained the situation as they traveled through the corridors up to the main hall where Erik dipped into the kitchen for a few minutes to return with two bowls, one with fried plantain and the other with egusi. He handed her the plantain bowl and sipped from the soup as they walked to M’Baku’s private garden. After hearing her out, Erik had finished most of his food, plantains included and sat under the tree with the bowls at his side. Shuri sat next to him, the sun shining warm on the dew dropped earth and swirling mist through the valleys below.

“So what’s with all this, ‘I don’t care about other people’s feelings’ shit?” He asked bluntly. “You can’t just not give a fuck about the people who care about you.”

Shuri leaned against the bark of the tree and closed her eyes, inhaling the different smells of Jabari Land. It was earthy and laced with pine, crisp and sharp as the air pulled through her lungs while she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

“There’s so much I want to see and experience, and I’m stuck here,” Shuri said quietly. “I am not a Black Panther, and I am not a Dora. I am not a war dog, but those are my only options to get out: serve my country. Maybe I don’t want to do that.”

Erik understood that feeling, the same one many of the kids he’d met at West Point and Anapolis felt: the military was the only way they’d be able to escape the struggles of poverty or circumstance and get a chance to live a new life. It wasn’t their first choice, but their only one.

“So? You can’t just run.”

Shuri balked at him. “You ran!”

“I wasn’t wanted around; people want you around,” Erik pointed out.

“Maybe I want you around,” Shuri picked up a rock from the dirt and twiddled it between her fingers as she inspected it. “Maybe you didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”

Erik quickly realized what this was going to be, and tried to switch tracks. “When you get back, you need to have a talk with T’Challa and your mom. I know he got that outreach center back where I used to live, so why can’t you just move there?”

“So I can be monitored by a Dora and any other spies implanted there?” Shuri snorted. “No thanks.”

“And dogging out Nakia?” Erik drew his knees up to rest his forearms on. “You really ain’t doing yourself favors.”

“Don’t defend her, she’s your ex-girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but you insulted her to your brother’s face, and I’m sure he’s already got enough to think about without having it thrown in his face every second,” Erik said quietly. “Imagine if you made a mistake and everyone pointed it out and never let it go.”

Shuri didn’t respond, and Erik didn’t force her to. They sat for a while, watching the birds hop in the garden and the bees buzz among the newly budding wildflowers. The wind filled their silence as it howled through mountain peaks and crevices, the tree rustling its leaves as it bowed in the breeze. A butterfly with a violet center that faded into black at the tips of its wings landed on Erik’s hand, and another rested on one of Shuri’s braid buns. They watched in fascination at the shimmer of its delicate wings before it took off the rest on a nearby shrub of lavender.

“Okay,” Shuri said quietly. “I’ll talk to him, but I need your help to do so.”

“You can speak for yourself can’t you?”

The thin girl shook her head. “You’re better with words, and he’ll listen to you and take you more serious. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to use you like everyone else.”

Erik’s hand stopped from where he was absentmindedly detangling a knot of hair out the back of his head. He  _ really _ needed to cut it. “Who’s using me?”

Shuri dramatically gestured wildly in front of her. “Everyone used you! The US government, Klaw, Nakia, and the Jabari probably are too if M’Baku wants a claim to the throne or to take over Wakanda!”

Erik looked at her for a moment, and then broke into laughter. “Okay, you got me there. You’re really perceptive, but trust me, the Jabari don’t give a fuck about Wakanda. They’d sooner just annex themselves.” He pat her head gently, however, and said, “Thanks for looking out for me, though. And you’re not using me if I volunteer.”

By the time M’Baku found them, they had fallen asleep underneath the tree with three empty fruit bowls at their feet, and Shuri leaned into Erik’s side with the fur cape draped over them. He smiled, gathered the bowls to set inside, and lifted Shuri in his arms as if she were a small child. He nudged Erik awake, and Erik’s eyes cracked open to see M’Baku smiling at him with an arm full of Shuri.

“Maybe the ground is not the best place for a nap,” M’Baku suggested, and Erik dragged himself to his feet to take Shuri in his own arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck automatically and allowed him to carry her inside to his room, where he laid her on the bed and left with M’Baku.

“You say you aren’t ready to be a father, but I’d beg to differ,” M’Baku said once they’d shut the door. “She’s very fond of you.”

“She only likes me to piss her brother off, because hanging out with the guy who tried to kill everyone is the new wave of teenage rebellion,” Erik said sarcastically. Then he added more genuinely,  “She’s able to see beyond my past, something not everyone else really can do well.”

“Maybe that’s good. She spoke to T’Challa?”

“Yes, but it didn’t go well, so I think I’ll call him later, but right now I need to go check on the trees.”

M’Baku smirked. “Then go. I will be around if she needs anything.” He gave Erik a kiss goodbye and a swift pat on the butt, sending him on his way.

 

Erik started off down the mountain path with a bounce in his step as he approached his field of trees. So far, no pests had been detected or signs of sickness. He fetched his watering gourd and hummed a simple tune as he moved through the rows of the saplings. He stretched his shoulders and thought of M’Baku and the night before, and tossed his head back and sang loudly, “Bad thang, fine as hell, thick as fuck, oh my god that’s my baby!”

_ M’Baku _ , Erik sang internally as the wind picked up to blow around his face,  _ you divine, mighty fine. _

It was safe to say, Erik was  _ sprung _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amine - Caroline


	6. VI

Sleep did not find the Wakandan king easily, and by the time morning had come, T’Challa was bone tired and short of patience. He found himself keeping his words short and interactions brief as he could not promise civility in the face of an impending visit from M’Baku and Erik, who had promised to return Shuri home safely. After he’d mended things with Nakia (a task he’d grown sick of) and getting chewed out by Okoye for even questioning Ayo’s loyalty for a second, T’Challa was left raw and unfiltered; if Erik arrived with the same cocky attitude he left with, he no doubt would put a matching set of panther claws into his chest to visit his father on the ancestral realm.

He had too much on his plate without worrying about keeping his engagement in tact and sister in check; one of those things would have to go if they continued to present an issue, and it _wouldn’t_ be Shuri. He heard the things said by people who knew what happened, and knew they viewed him as weaker for it. He wanted to argue that it wasn’t _weakness_ that kept him taking Nakia back, time after time, but it was strength - the strength to fix a relationship rather than throw it away. He and Nakia had invested _years_ into their relationship; what would be the good of throwing all of that away for a moment of infidelity?

And he still debated with himself whether he counted it as infidelity or not; they had just broken up, and the only _real_ issue he took with her choice was that it was not only his cousin, but the same cousin who had entered their lives not that long ago and disrupted everything, leading to the death of Wakandan citizens.

It was times like these that T’Challa felt insecure about himself, not only as a king, but as a man - if he could lose Nakia to the likes of Erik, what did it say about him?

T’Challa couldn’t help feeling that even if Nakia still loved him, he was not exactly what she wanted any longer. Maybe she needed him for the stability and safety, but she wanted the risk and adrenaline of being with Erik. Like Okoye had said, she saw a mission in him more than a man - Erik was something fun and different, an assignment, but T’Challa was _home._

It was also the fact that Nakia couldn’t leave well enough alone, and had to essentially be thrown away by Erik just to return to T’Challa’s side: she didn’t know the truth behind her breakup with Erik, what he’d confided to him.

T’Challa hadn’t wanted to answer the unfamiliar call, but he was thankful that he did. Erik told him that he’d kicked Nakia out by instigating a pointless fight and calling her out on her shortcomings, that he had said a slew of things to get under her skin, _just_ to get her away from _him._ She was suffocating Erik and projecting onto him and he could no longer take it. He had pleaded with T’Challa to take her back and keep her away from him, for his own sanity. And then to take it further, he wanted T’Challa to hit him as penance for his sleight.

Erik sought forgiveness in his own ways, T’Challa realized then. It hadn’t been verbal, however, and the message was easily overlooked. Leaving them and intending to never show his face again was supposed to be his form of apologizing for the pain he’d caused, since dying had not been an option.

And now he was forced to return, and no doubt he’d see Nakia.

And if the child was his…

Everyone wondered why T’Challa wasn’t more upset with Erik than he was with Nakia, but they didn’t know the truth that he did, that Erik had been hurt first and could not heal while Nakia was still an active presence in his life.

He tried his best to please everyone, and what did he get for it? Yelled at, scolded, ignored. T’Challa was ready to give up and join his cousin in the mountains.

His wrist glowed with an incoming notification, and T’Challa sighed, already aware of what was awaiting him. He raised his wrist to see Okoye’s displeased face meeting his.

“They’ve arrived at the border, and we are currently escorting them to the palace. M’Baku is in attendance, as well as two of his guards.”

A small, conservative number that wouldn’t raise suspicion or alarm, good. This would appear as a formal visit rather than a test of strength. “I will be waiting in the conference room, thank you.”

T’Challa stood from his chair in his private office and stretched his hands above his head, groaning quietly when his joints cracked and popped. He would have rather been fighting with the Avengers than the back and forth of domestic affairs.

 

Arriving with the Jabari Tribe, Erik donned the same clothes as them rather than his civvies that he’d worn in Wakanda. He kept his hair tied back with the leather strap he’d taken from M’Baku’s uniform in a subtle display of affection only M’Baku and he would recognize. It made him feel childish, yet giddy, like experiencing his first boyfriend.

And maybe in a way it was, since romance had never been a real priority. He had relationships of convenience, but never any of genuine love and trust. Even Nakia, as loving as she’d been, had still been based on the fact that he was her prisoner; Stockholm Syndrome didn’t count.

As they marched through the vaulted, regal halls lined with stained glass and royal violet carpet, Erik kept his posture lax and gaze focused forward. He didn’t march like he was trained to, but chose to appear almost bored with being here even though his nerves were tight. What was he going to do if he ran into Nakia again? Avoid her? Intimidate her? What if she ignored him? The thought sent a pang of pain through his chest, and almost as if sensing his discomfort M’Baku reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

They were escorted into the conference room by Okoye and five other guards where T’Challa sat waiting for their arrival. Erik took in the weary expression on his face in mild surprise; he didn’t think much could have transpired in a week, and yet here T’Challa was, already exhausted and showing the signs on his face.

“Wussp cuh,” Erik drawled, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. “Miss me?”

T’Challa inhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for returning Shuri safely. You all are welcome to rest here for the night if you choose.”

Erik nudged Shuri, who looked sheepishly at the floor and huffed. “Little girl don’t make me regret not tossing you off that cliff,” Erik gently popped her upside the head, and Shuri whined, grumbling about being treated like a convict.

“I’m sorry for the things I said about Nakia,” Shuri announced. “I was just mad that you invaded my privacy.”

T’Challa tried to hide the look of surprise on his face, but failed. “Thank you? You still need to apologize to her directly, and expect mother to have a punishment waiting for you.”

Shuri’s shoulders dropped, but Erik rubbed her back. “Actions have consequences, shorty. I know you didn’t think that would be the end of it.”

“Where’s Nakia? I’ll go apologize right now,” Shuri said quietly.

T’Challa shook his head. “No need, she’s on her way right now.”

Erik’s throat tightened, but M’Baku’s hand on the back of his neck held him in place. The door creaked open, and Nakia slipped in without a word, keeping her eyes to the floor even as Erik stared hard at her, willing her to look at him and acknowledge his existence. When she only chose to stand next to T’Challa where he sat and stare pointedly at Shuri instead, Erik grit his teeth.

“Hey Nakia,” Erik said casually. The hand on the back of his neck tightened.

Nakia didn’t say anything in response.

As Shuri continued on to recite the apology she’d rehearsed for Nakia, Erik felt the familiar vitriol and anger beginning to rise inside him. How dare she ignore him like a scab that she intended to allow to fall off? He had done nothing wrong to her, had followed along with her games and even gave his body to her for her own use, and this was how she treated him? It hurt more than anything to see she didn’t miss him in the slightest, to hear how even her voice was as though he’d never mattered.

He knew deep down, he didn’t matter to her, but it didn’t help stop the longing to be recognized. He wanted closure he knew he would never get, and if it hadn’t been for M’Baku still holding onto him, he surely would have snapped. His jaw was set, his posture tense, and when T’Challa met his eyes, he could see the pity staring him back.

Pity. From T’Challa. For Nakia.

Erik wanted to run away and never come back. This was why. This was why he didn’t belong here with these people; they’d done their part and now he was ready to go.

“Hey, we’re gonna get going,” Erik interrupted the conversation between T’Challa and Shuri. “She’s good, y’all good, so we’re just -”

“The king and I have matters to discuss about the future of the Jabari Tribe,” M’Baku said finally, and Erik’s shoulders dropped.

“Well can I go? I’m fucking bored,” Erik complained.

M’Baku raised an eyebrow, and Erik knew he’d hear about this later, but he felt claustrophobic. “No, you will stay.”

Erik looked away quickly, kissing his teeth. “Shit’s boring.”

“ _N’Jadaka_ ,” M’Baku warned, squeezing Erik’s neck, and Erik bit his lip and held his tongue. He wouldn’t argue any further, but he wasn’t pleased with being forced to stay in the same room as Nakia.

Thankfully, T’Challa came to his aid. “Actually, council meetings are reserved for only members of the council. Everyone else will have to step out for the meeting,” T’Challa explained, giving a general dismissal that wouldn’t single Erik out. Erik sent him a desperate look of thanks when M’Baku finally released him from his grip to allow him to leave.

Erik finally heaved a sigh of relief when he set foot outside the room, Shuri not far behind as she grabbed onto his arm.

“Do you want to go hang out in my lab?” She asked, gently pulling him in the direction of the cargo bay when a shrill voice called out her name.

Ramonda stood a couple meters away, face hard and arms crossed at the sight of her youngest daughter trying to escape punishment, and Erik amusedly shook his head. “I’m not about to catch an ass whooping just because you don’t want yours. If you run from it, it’ll only be worse.”

Shuri hesitantly released Erik from her clutches and dragged herself over to Ramonda, who snatched her by the arm and marched her off towards the private wing of the palace. Erik couldn’t fully enjoy the sight, however, due to the presence of a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of his head. He steadied himself and turned slowly to find Nakia staring at him, face void of any visible emotion.

“Miss me?” Erik teased.

Nakia lifted her head condescendingly and crossed her arms. “I have nothing to say to you.” She tried to walk past him, but Erik put himself in her way and blocked her path. When Nakia tried to side step him, he only moved quicker to stop her. She huffed in frustration and finally put her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards. Usochi and the other Jabari guard, Azu, moved as if they were ready to step in, but Okoye and Ayo held their spears out in warning.

When he realized the guards still were not intervening, Erik caught himself by grabbing her hands and pushing her twice as hard into the opposite wall. He pounced to pin her between his hands to the wall in an act of intimidation. He sneered down at her and reveled in the look of discomfort on her face.

“What’s wrong? You still think you didn’t do anything wrong? Is that what you let T’Challa think?”

“Leave me alone!” Nakia cried. “You already ruined our relationship, why can’t you just leave me be?”

“Because I want to hear you admit it to yourself that _you_ ruined your own relationship,” Erik hissed. “Stop pushing the blame for everything onto him or me, and stand in your truth.”

Nakia pushed Erik’s face away from hers and spat, “What, you want to hear the truth? That I still think about you and miss you? That I have no one else to turn to, because being with you pushed away everyone I could possibly confide in?”

That was _not_ what Erik had expected to hear, and the confession blindsided him like a sucker punch to the gut. His aggressive demeanor dropped and shattered at his feet.

“You miss me?”

Nakia laughed bitterly while choking back angry tears and threw her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. _Yes_ , I miss you. You were insufferable, uncouth, and violent, but you were genuinely good, beneath all the scars and the anger, you wanted to be good and I could see that.”

Her words bounced between Erik’s ears in an obsessive echo that filled his mind until he could no longer formulate a proper response. He stood there, arms dropped limply by his sides while he tried to process this new information. It was one thing to hear M’Baku tell him he was good, but Nakia?

“Did you love me?”

Nakia balked at the question and tossed her head back in a cackle. “Was I in love with you? No, absolutely not. Did I enjoy our time spent together?” Nakia looked at Okoye watching silently, who had not moved thus far. “Absolutely. But that is in the past. T’Challa and I are working on our future, with or without you in it.”

Erik chewed on his bottom lip and looked away to hide the conflict of anger and closure in his face. So she _had_ cared. All this time, and she had probably been struggling to get over him the same way he’d been trying to get over her. He had considered her a leech, nothing more than a drain of emotional support and favors, a manipulative and conniving temptress, when she had just been working through her own issues as well and he'd been caught in the crossfire. He now understood how the innocent people he had murdered must have felt, to suffer because of misdirected anger and hurt.

There was no salvaging any friendship between them at this point, and when he met her eyes again, he could see she was thinking the same thing, remorse apparent in her eyes. The baby, regardless of whether it was his or not, was immaterial. Whether he wanted to raise it or not was pointless. They had both drawn their own conclusions and begun the process of moving on, and while it was for the best, it still hurt. The words they'd said alone to themselves and with others had already salted the earth from which something could potentially grow.

Casting a silent cry for help to Usochi who only shook his head, Erik tried to figure out what M’Baku would tell him to say to fix this. Unfortunately, he slowly came to the realization that the damage was permanent, so he said the only thing he could offer.

“I’m sorry.”

Now it was Nakia’s turn to appear stunned, and Erik even noticed a barely imperceptible shift in posture in Okoye in his peripheral. He turned to her and dropped his head.

“I’m sorry, Okoye, for killing your soldier. I know apologizing won’t bring her back, but I can show remorse.”

Okoye didn’t react, although her eyes watered all the same. Ayo bit her lip and inhaled sharply.

“What do you think you’re trying to do?” Nakia shouted, shoving Erik. “Do you think you can endear yourself to the people whose lives you destroyed? Do you think everyone will just forgive you for apologizing? Is that what the Jabari have taught you?”

Erik allowed himself be pushed, recalling his fight with M’Baku. “I think I can still apologize and mean it whether you accept it or not. I said shit to you just to piss you off and make you leave instead of just telling you to go because I didn't want to be around you anymore. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Nakia wiped her face of the tears that had begun to fall. “Every day I have to carry my head high while people call me names behind my back and to my face because of you, and you are the only person who knows how that feels. And you left me.”

Erik hung his head. “I know.”

“You _abandoned_ me!”

“I know.”

“You played me for a fool and I took it out on T’Challa!” Nakia’s voice reached a shrill pitch and Erik flinched. “You embarrassed me in front of my friends and family, and the best you can do is give me a pathetic apology? I should _never_ forgive you!”

Erik sucked in his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

For a few, tense minutes, neither spoke. Nakia said nothing, and Erik focused on his boots and the way the leather laced through the fur. After a while, slowly, Nakia approached him and took his hands in hers. Erik didn’t look up from the ground, even when her warm, soft hands squeezed his large, rough ones.

“And still no one else would have taken a chance to trust you if I didn’t know you could be trusted,” Nakia said quietly. “So let me begin the healing process, for the both of us, by saying that I accept your apology.”

Erik closed his eyes and sucked in a shuddery breath, then pressed his hands to his eyes and crouched to the floor in front of Nakia. She rubbed his head gently while his shoulders shook from the barely restrained, silent sobs that wracked his body. His first apology acceptance: one that came without fists, without violence and retribution.

Absolution.

To the side, the door opened once more, and M’Baku and T’Challa stepped outside to take in the scene before them. T’Challa looked to Okoye for answers, but she only shook her head and wiped a tear from under her eye. Usochi gave M’Baku a small smile, and the Jabari leader continued past the others to kneel by Erik and raise his chin to meet his eyes.

“Why are you crying, my love?” M’Baku asked. He gently brushed the tears from Erik’s round cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“She forgave me,” Erik mumbled, wiping his nose with the back of his arm. “I apologized.”

M’Baku looked to Nakia, who affirmed his words with a short nod and bewildered look at Erik being called, _“my love.”_

M’Baku smiled and pulled Erik to his feet and pulled him into his side. “See? Doesn’t it feel good? I told you, it starts with forgiving yourself. The world will fall in line.” M’Baku kissed Erik on the lips, and then pecked him on forehead. He looked to the others, stunned in silence, and announced, “We will be resting overnight, if you do not mind. T’Challa, we can stay longer to discuss the separation of Jabari Land from Wakanda into its own country with the council if you wish. I feel this won’t be resolved quickly.”

T’Challa nodded slowly, face in complete confusion from the scene before him. “Okoye, escort our guests to their quarters. We will see them for dinner as well.”

Okoye looked as if she wanted to ask a hundred questions, as did Ayo, but instead they exchanged a look between them and Nakia that spoke for them all: _what was going on between M’Baku and Erik?_

As the others walked away, Nakia and T’Challa were left alone to piece together what had just transpired in the hallway. They were at a loss for words.

“So M’Baku and -” T’Challa started.

“Erik, right, they’re…” Nakia continued, “Intimate.”

With a shared glance, T’Challa and Nakia burst out into laughter and clutched onto each other while they howled with laughter.

“I thought he was being too compliant!” Nakia wheezed. “When M’Baku called him by his real name, it felt strange!”

T’Challa gathered Nakia into his arms for a hug as he continued laughing. “If M’Baku’s staff is what whips him into line, then so be it.”

Nakia smacked his chest at the crude joke, but laughed harder nonetheless. They stood there in the regal hallway while they relaxed from a tense week, finally beginning to feel like their old selves again for the first time in months. T’Challa pressed his hand to Nakia’s still flat belly and smiled down at her.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the rest unsaid.

Nakia didn’t reply, instead leaning into his shoulder to take in his scent and just savor the first moment of normalcy she’d had in who knew how long. She wasn’t sure how long this feeling would last, so she clung to it and refused to break the silence.

They could resume their lives later, and return to the reality that awaited them, but for now, they needed this break, a momentary escape that felt like the beginning of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments and supported me as I wrote this hot mess! I really appreciate your words of encouragement and your feedback has been extremely helpful! I wanna give a special thanks to Kagutsuchi for helping me workshop this story offsite; every thing I've bounced off her has really resonated with y'all from what I noticed! I will be writing another story to pick up from this, and we'll get into the pregnancy drama from there.


End file.
